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SELF-MADE MEN. 



BY 



CHAS. C. B. SEYMOUR 



OpYRIC/y; 












N E W YORK: 
HARPER <t BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

FRANKLIN SQUARE. 

1858. 






Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year one thousand eight 
hundred and fifty-eight, by 

Harper & Brothers, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of 
New York. 



PREFACE. 



In this volume will be found the lives of more than sixty 
distinguished persons who have attained eminence in spite 
of adverse circumstances of birth and fortune. They are 
presented in the usual biographical form, and with as much 
fullness as the object in view and the space at command 
would permit. 

It has not been deemed necessary to append to each sketch 
a little sermon to point out its moral tendencies. The real 
moral of a man's life is found in his actions. These have 
been related faithfully, and they will, it is believed, convey 
their lesson without any laborious essay on the part of the 
writer. 

For the omissions that occur, the writer has only to say 
that the extent and variety of material which every where 
rewarded his search rendered the task of selection an embar- 
rassing one. The sixty biographies that are given have 
their value, and those that are omitted have theirs also. A 
book, unfortunately, will but contain a certain quantity, and 
that quantity is here supplied. 

New York, March, 1858. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

GENERAL ANDREW JACKSON 9 

JACOB LEISLER 23 

DANIEL WEBSTER '. 30 

ELIHU BURRITT 40 

DR. ALEXANDER MURRAY 45 

LIEUT. MATTHEW F. MAURY 51 

CHRISTIAN GOTTLOB HEYNE 59 

ROBERT BURNS 64 

GEORGE FOX 71 

AMOS LAWRENCE 76 

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 84 

ANTHONY WAYNE 94 

EMMANUEL KANT 101 

JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE 106 

DAVID RITTENHOUSE 114 

CARSTEN NIEBUHR 121 

HENRY CLAY 130 

JOHN LEDYARD 138 

STEPHEN GIRARD 165 

SIR WILLIAM PHIPS 181 

DANIEL BOONE 191 

JOSEPH BRAMAH 209 

JAMES HARGREAVES 212 

ALEXANDER WILSON 215 

EDMUND CARTWRIGHT 234 

COUNT RUMFORD 238 

THOMAS POSEY 253 

ISRAEL PUTNAM 258 

JOHN PRIDEAUX 270 

ROGER WILLIAMS 275 

WILLIAM HUTTON 289 

JOHN PAUL JONES 303 

WILLIAM FALCONER 310 

SIR HUMPHREY DAVY 314 

ROBERT DODSLEY 320 



Vlll CONTENTS. 

PAGB 

ANTONIO CANOVA 323 

PHILIP VAYRINGE 330 

NATHANIEL BOWDITCI1 336 

VALENTINE JAMERAI DUVAL 343 

CHARLES DICKENS 353 

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE 353 

WILLIAM GIFFORD 374 

BENJAMIN WEST 3g 2 

JOHN FITCH 394 

PATRICK HENRY 401 

ELI WHITNEY 420 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 428 

OLIVER EVANS 449 

ROGER SHERMAN 454 

ROBERT FULTON 460 

SIR WILLIAM JONES 469 

CAPT. JOHN SMITH 479 

JAMES BRINDLEY 496 

THOMAS HOLCROFT 500 

ROBERT BLOOMFIELD 507 

SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT 512 

HENRY KIRKE WHITE 520 

JAMES WATT 531 

WILLIAM COBBETT 538 

AMOS WHITTEMORE 553 

CAPT. JAMES COOK 557 

GEORGE STEPHENSON 575 



SELF-MADE MEN. 




ANDREW JACKSON". 

Andrew Jackson was descended from a Scotch family which 
emigrated to the North of Ireland at a very early period. The 
troubled state of that country induced Andrew's father to seek a 
new home in the land of promise, America. In 1765 he arrived 
at the port of Charleston, South Carolina, bringing with him a 
wife and two sons, Hugh and Robert. He settled on a tract of 
land then called " Waxhaw Settlement," near the boundary-line 
of North Carolina. Here, two years subsequently, the subject of 
this memoir was born (15th March, 1767). 

Soon after the birth of Andrew, his father died, leaving him 
and his two brothers to the sole care and guardianship of Mrs. 
Jackson, an excellent woman, famed for her heroic resolution, 

A 2 



10 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and admirable qualities of head and heart. In early life she had 
witnessed the tyranny of British rule in Ireland, and the still 
more tyrannous exactions of the Irish nobility. These reminis- 
cences she recounted to her sons, and their influence was observ- 
able in after-life in a sturdy opposition to tyranny and exaction. 

The education which the lads received was necessarily of a 
limited character. The two eldest were simply taught the rudi- 
ments of the English language, but Andrew, being intended for 
the ministry, enjoyed some additional advantages. He was sent 
to a flourishing academy at the Waxhaw Meeting-house, where 
he studied the classics and the higher branches of a superior ed- 
ucation, until the Revolutionary War had extended itself to the 
immediate vicinity. South Carolina was invaded by the British 
in 1779, and in the following year it became necessary for the 
neighborhood in which Jackson resided to declare itself for or 
against the enemy. The struggles of the patriot army during 
five long years of trial were perfectly familiar to Andrew and his 
little home circle, and the spirit of resistance was strong within 
them. On the 29th of May, 1780, an engagement took place at 
Waxhaw Settlement between the British and American forces, 
in which the latter were defeated, suffering a loss in killed and 
wounded of nearly three hundred men. 

It became necessary to retire before the invading army into 
North Carolina. Mrs. Jackson, with her two remaining sons 
(she had lost one at the battle of Stono, from the excessive heat 
of the weather), abandoned the homestead for a short time, but 
returned in time to allow the boys to take part in the battle of 
Hanging Rock (6th of August, 1780), where the corps to which 
they were attached greatly distinguished itself. They were again 
compelled to retire to North Carolina, but returned in a few 
months, when it was known that Lord Cornwallis had crossed 
the Yadkin. 

It was during the trying scenes of this period that Andrew 
Jackson gave the first illustration of that quickness of thought 
and instant decision which afterward placed him in the front rank 
of military commanders. A captain of the American forces named 
Sands, who had been absent from home for some time, desired to 
spend a night with his family. Robert and Andrew Jackson, with 
seven others, consented to act as his body-guard. They numbered 
seven muskets, and, when night came on, lay down to sleep with 



ANDREW JACKSON. 11 

their weapons handy in case of need. The precaution was well 
taken. During the night the Tories made their appearance. The 
moment the alarm was given, Andrew ran out of the house, and, 
putting his gun through the fork of an apple-tree, hailed the ad- 
vancing column. No answer was given, and Jackson fired. A 
volley was the return, which killed Andrew's companion. It 
now became apparent that the Tories had divided their party into 
two sections, so as to attack the building at either end. Young 
Andrew returned to the house, and, with two others, commenced 
a fire from the door. In the mean time the enemy's second divis- 
ion came up, and, mistaking the firing in front, actually commenced 
fighting with its own men. They kept up the fire upon each other, 
as well as upon the house, until, startled by the sound of a cavalry 
bugle in the distance, they beat a hasty retreat. The charge sound- 
ed on the bugle was nothing but an ingenious ruse of a Major Isbel. 
He had not a single man with him ; but, knowing that stratagem 
often accomplishes more than actual force, he blew the blast, and 
trusted to fortune. But for the decision of Jackson in firing the 
first shot, every man of the little party would have been captured. 
The patriots were not so fortunate at a subsequent rencounter 
which took place at Waxhaw Meeting-house. It was with the 
greatest difficulty that a portion of their number, including An- 
drew and his brother, obtained safety by flight. The two broth- 
ers remained together until the following morning. Pressed by 
hunger, they ventured from the woods, and fell into the hands 
of the enemy before they were well aware of their presence. To 
escape was impossible, and both were made prisoners. Being 
placed under guard, Andrew was ordered in a very imperious 
toneNby a British officer to clean his boots, which had become 
muddied. This order he positively and peremptorily refused to 
obey, alleging that he was entitled to the treatment of a prisoner 
of war, and not that of a menial. Incensed at this refusal, the 
British officer aimed a blow at his head with a drawn sword. 
Throwing up his arm, he sheltered himself from what would have 
probably proved a fatal wound, but in doing so was badly cut. 
The mark of this cowardly assault Andrew Jackson bore with 
him to the grave. Turning to Robert Jackson, the British bully 
repeated his order, and received a reply similar to that made by 
Andrew. Additionally furious at being foiled twice, he struck 
Robert on the head, and inflicted an injury from which the poor 



1-2 SELF-MADE MEN. 

young fellow never recovered. The prisoners were then taken 
to jail, and confined in separate cells. They were treated with 
great harshness until after the battle of Camden, when, owing to 
an exchange of prisoners (brought about in a great measure by the 
exertions of Mrs. Jackson), they were set at liberty. Robert died 
a few days after his release from the effects of his wound. Bowed 
down by affliction and an overwrought mind, Mrs. Jackson was 
taken sick, and in a few days lay beside the two sons she had 
already consecrated to the cause of liberty. 

Notwithstanding the hopeful buoyancy of youth, it was some- 
time before Andrew recovered from the severe shock of these 
calamities. He sought forgetfulness in the easy pleasures of the 
neighboring town, mixed with the gay and frivolous, and for a 
time seemed to imbibe their tastes and fancies with satisfaction. 
He accompanied some of his new-found companions to Charleston, 
and soon dissipated the small patrimony Avhich was his all. He 
found himself at last with nothing left but a fine horse. Even 
this he staked against a sum of money in a game called "rattle 
and snap." Jackson won the game, recovered possession of his 
horse and his senses, bade adieu to a life of foolish dissipation, 
and returned home. 

It was now his determination to become a lawyer (1784), and, 
devoting himself with assiduity to this object, he obtained a license 
to practice in the winter of 1786. He continued in the State of 
North Carolina until the spring of 1788, following his profession, 
with only moderate patronage. He was now twenty-one, and 
eager to find a field for the liberal exercise of his talents. The 
western district of the state was spoken of as presenting flat- 
tering prospects to adventurers, and, at the solicitation of Judge 
M'Nairy, who was going out to hold the first Supreme Court that 
had ever sat in that section of the country, Andrew Jackson 
determined to accompany him. In the month of October, 1789, 
they reached Nashville, Jackson bearing with him an appoint- 
ment from the governor to act as solicitor for the western district 
of the state, embracing the present State of Tennessee. 

The condition in which he found things at Nashville was extra- 
ordinary, and in the highest degree promising to a young lawyer. 
Most of the young men of the place were in debt to the merchants, 
who were unable to help themselves for the simple reason that 
there was but one lawyer in the country, and he had been judi- 






ANDREW JACKSON. 13 

ciously retained by the scapegraces. The merchants were conse- 
quently unable to recover their debts, or to bring actions for the 
purpose of doing so. The arrival of Jackson was most opportune. 
He commenced business the following morning by issuing no fewer 
than seventy writs. The consternation which this decided action 
threw into the camp of the enemy was prodigious. The first 
feeling was one of common safety. Jackson must be got rid of. 
He must be bullied or browbeaten out the town. The experi- 
ment was made, but it was a miserable failure. The youngsters 
found that they had a man of iron to deal with, and that it would 
be better for their own safety to leave him alone; and they did so. 
They learned this lesson from two incidents which occurred. A 
flax-breaker of considerable strength and courage set upon Jack- 
son without any pretense of provocation. Jackson reduced him 
to submission with his own winding blades. His next encounter 
was at a court in Sumner County. While he was conversing with 
a gentleman a noted bully approached, and, without saying a word, 
placed his heels on Jackson's feet. Pushing him off, Jackson 
seized a slab which happened to be handy, and, with a forward 
thrust upon the breast, brought him to the ground. The interfer- 
ence of the crowd put an end to the conflict ; but the baffled bully, 
snatching a stake from the fence, again approached with dreadful 
imprecations. At the earnest entreaty of Jackson, the crowd re- 
tired from between them. Poising his slab, he then advanced, with 
a firm step and steady eye, upon his antagonist, who dropped his 
stake at his approach, scaled the fence, and ran into the woods. 

During his sojourn at Nashville he became acquainted with 
and married Mrs. Robards. The circumstances of this marriage 
were extremely curious. Jackson boarded in the same house with 
Mr. and Mrs. Robards, a couple that lived unhappily together, 
and had only recently been reconciled. Mr. Robards became 
jealous of Jackson, and went away to Virginia, where he quietly 
obtained a divorce. Unconscious of this fact, Mrs. Robards fol- 
lowed, in company with Colonel Stark and Jackson, the latter act- 
ing as pilot through the Indian country. On arriving at Natchez 
they learned what steps had been taken. Jackson was naturally 
indignant, and immediately went to expostulate with the blind 
and jealous husband. No good came of it. The divorce was 
granted, and Mrs. Robards was a free woman. Acting on the 
quick impulses of a generous mind, Jackson hastened to offer his 



14 SELF-MADE MEN. 

hand and his heart to the innocent and amiable woman who had 
been sacrificed without a shadow of pretext. It was a manly- 
step, and showed to the world that he, at least, thought her inno- 
cent. From reasons of discretion as well as of delicacy, the offer 
was at first declined, but after the lapse of a few months the 
wedding took place. Jackson soon became devotedly attached 
to his wife, and after her decease cherished her memory with an 
almost holy reverence. 

On the formation of the State Government of Tennessee in 
1796, Andrew Jackson was appointed one of the members of the 
Convention to frame a State Constitution. The same year he was 
elected to represent Tennessee in the House of Eepresentatives in 
Congress. The following year he was chosen senator in Con- 
gress, and took his seat on the 22d of November, 1797. Business 
at home compelled him to resign his seat before the next session. 
On returning to Tennessee, he was surprised to find that the Leg- 
islature had quite unexpectedly conferred on him the appoint- 
ment of Judge of the Supreme Court. He entered on the duties 
of this office with some reluctance, but the firmness, justice, and 
courage he displayed were soon the themes of general admiration. 
These characteristics, however, were not always acceptable, espe- 
cially to those who had held the law in their own hands. Jack- 
son had plenty of enemies of this sort. 

On the admission of Tennessee into the Union it comprised 
one military division. The death of Major General Conway, 
which occurred about this time, created a vacancy in the office, 
•which was filled by the election of Jackson. In 1804 he resigned 
the judgeship, and confined his attention exclusively to his own 
affairs and this commission. Accordingly, he purchased an ex- 
cellent farm ten miles from Nashville, on the Columbia River, 
where for several years he devoted himself to agricultural pur- 
suits and the agreeable duties of a social and hospitable home. 

In this comparative retirement General Jackson remained, with 
few exceptions, until the declaration of war with Great Britain in 
June, 1812. Without seeking a command in the regular army, 
he issued a special address to the citizens of his division, calling 
upon them to unite with him in protecting the rights and the 
honor of the republic. Twenty-five hundred volunteers flocked 
to his banner in a few days, ready to follow him in any direction 
and on any expedition against the enemy. In November, 1812, 



ANDREW JACKSON. 15 

he placed himself at their head, and in the following month found 
a rendezvous at Nashville. The general's ardor inspired the men 
with the greatest devotion ; and their cheerful spirits were proof 
against privation and hardship. At the opening of the new year 
(1813) Jackson and his companions descended to Natchez, where 
they were to remain until they received further orders. He se- 
lected the most healthful spot he could find for his encampment, 
and devoted all his attention to the training of his volunteers, 
many of whom were, of course, quite green. The speck of war, 
however, disappeared for a time, and an order was received from 
the Secretary of War directing the disbanding of the volunteers 
and the delivering up of the property of the corps to General Wil- 
kinson. When this order reached the camp there were one hund- 
red and fifty on the sick-list, fifty-six of whom were completely 
prostrated, and the remainder so feeble and destitute that they 
were entirely unable to reach their homes, or defray the expenses 
of the journey, even if it could be undertaken. If the order had 
been complied with, numbers would have perished, and others of 
necessity been compelled to enter the regular army under General 
Wilkinson. 

Jackson felt himself compromised by this order. His men 
were volunteers, not recruits. They had left their homes for the 
sake of their country, and it was but fair that when the danger 
which had brought them out was at an end, the nation should 
enable them to return to their homes to enjoy the peaceful result. 
At present, it looked very much like a trick to fill the ranks of 
the regular army. Under these convictions, Jackson determined 
to disobey the orders of the secretary. 

The officers seemed to be satisfied with his determination, but 
were, in reality, alarmed at its consequences. After holding a se- 
cret meeting among themselves, they presented a recommendation 
to the general to adhere to the secretary's instructions. Disgust- 
ed at their pusillanimity, the general replied that it was the men 
he thought of, and not the officers, who had means at their dispo- 
sal, and could go whither they pleased. He concluded by telling 
them that, as his resolution was not hastily formed, so it would 
not be easily changed. During these negotiations the officers of 
General Wilkinson arrived in the camp, with the object of re- 
cruiting from the volunteer army. So soon as Jackson was ap- 
prised of this, he gave orders that any officer found recruiting 



16 SELF-MADE MEN. 

from among his troops, that were already in the service of the 
United States, should be arrested and confined. All sorts of 
mean stratagems were now resorted to to frustrate Jackson's pur- 
pose, but his iron will and indomitable energy overcame every ob- 
stacle, and he had the satisfaction of marching the whole of his 
division to the section of country whence they had been drawn. 
He then dismissed them, and awaited the consequences of his bold 
action. It is almost unnecessary to add that when the matter 
was presented in its proper light to the President, he entirely ap- 
proved the course adopted by the general. 

The repose of General Jackson and his volunteers was of short 
duration. They had scarcely reached their homes when the In- 
dian nations scattered over the territory comprising the States of 
Alabama and Mississippi made incursions into Tennessee and 
Kentucky, and committed the most savage murders and cruelties. 
The Creek Indians, residing in the vicinity of the Coosa and Tal- 
lapoosa Eivers, were the most implacable and hostile. On the 
30th of August, 1813, these dusky rascals made a successful at- 
tack on Fort Minims. A most dreadful slaughter took place. 
Mercy was shown to none. Men, women, and children fell be- 
neath the fatal tomahawk and scalping-knife. The fort was oc- 
cupied by Major Beasley, with a force of one hundred and fifty 
men, and a large number of women and children who had sought 
shelter and protection. Of this number seventeen only made 
their escape ; the rest were mercilessly massacred. 

The atrocity of this outrage was in some respects advantage- 
ous. It roused the people, and gave them a timely insight into 
the danger which lay at their very doors. It nerved them for 
one great retaliatory effort, and paved the way for a subsequent 
peace. The war was entered into with enthusiasm. It was 
prosecuted in the face of great difficulties, hardships, and reverses, 
but it was triumphant. The qualities displayed by General Jack- 
son in this hazardous, energetic, and remarkable campaign proved 
beyond doubt that he possessed military gifts of the highest order, 
and in a well-balanced combination rarely found save in the great- 
est heroes of the world. The difficulties he had to encounter 
were of the most disheartening kind ; discontents were everlast- 
ingly rising up in his army; the Governor of Tennessee recom- 
mended him to abandon his enterprise ; a general deserted him 
with his entire brigade ; opposition after opposition he encounter- 






ANDREW JACKSON. 17 

ed from different officers, yet he proceeded to assault the blood- 
thirsty enemy in spite of every impediment. In this campaign 
he had to imprison officers, to hang a militia soldier, and to do 
other things which, from their daring, almost require credulity un- 
bounded to believe to be true. Finally, however, he succeeded, 
subdued the savage tribes, and scattered them before him like 
chaff in the wind. They were glad to sue for peace, and to enter 
into a treaty securing it to them. The warriors returned to their 
homes in the early part of 1814. 

In the spring of the same year Jackson received the appoint- 
ment of major general in the service of the United States. The 
protection of the coast near the mouth of the Mississippi was in- 
trusted to him. In pursuing the duties of this appointment, Gen- 
eral Jackson became convinced that the Indians received assist- 
ance from the Spanish authorities at Pensacola, and from the 
British. He was persuaded, also, that it was the intention of the 
latter to make a descent on New Orleans so soon as they had 
perfected their arrangements at Pensacola. The general endeav- 
ored to treat with the Spanish authorities, and to point out to 
them the impropriety of the course they were pursuing ; but the 
Spanish authorities prevaricated, falsified, and even flatly denied 
the truth of what was charged against them. Jackson dispatched 
Captain Gordon to see what was passing in the month of August 
(1814), and ascertained that from fifty to two hundred British 
officers and soldiers were in the garrison, with a park of artillery, 
and about five hundred savages under drill. A proclamation 
dated from " Head-quarters at Pensacola," and signed by Colonel 
Nicholls, of the British expedition, placed the matter beyond doubt. 

General Jackson was never remarkable for being caught asleep, 
and he was determined not to be somnolent on this occasion. He 
resolved at once to march against Pensacola, and break up that 
rendezvous. On the 6th of November, 1814, he carried out this 
intention, demolished the Spanish defenses and protections, and 
drove out what remained of the English, Spaniards, and savages. 
He then made the best of his way to New Orleans, whither the 
English expedition had already departed. His repulse of the Brit- 
ish on that occasion is one of the most brilliant achievements re- 
corded in American history, and is familiar to every schoolboy. It 
is unnecessary to repeat a story so perfectly well known. General 
Jackson covered himself and his country with imperishable fame. 



18 SELF MADE MEN. 

Peace having been declared at Ghent, the remainder of the 
British forces sailed away, after making a stay of about ten days 
in Jackson's vicinity. 

Though honored and respected by the greater part of the citi- 
zens of New Orleans, General Jackson was not without his oppo- 
nents, who saw in some of his actions the worst features of des- 
potism. The decision which he was so fond of exercising, and 
which was perhaps necessary to a certain extent, was undoubted- 
ly calculated, in its exaggerated form, to produce the worst appre- 
hensions in the minds of the timid and moderate. The general's 
enemies made the most of this circumstance. Before the depart- 
ure of the British, an anonymous article appeared in one of the 
newspapers, commenting on the state of things. Jackson forced 
the editor of the paper to divulge the name of the writer, who 
turned out to be a member of the State Legislature. He was 
flung into prison. Application was made to one of the judges for 
a writ of habeas corpus, which was immediately granted and issued. 
Jackson then imprisoned the judge for issuing the writ, and the 
lawyer for drawing it out. These proceedings were undoubtedly 
despotic and tyrannous, but we must remember that at the time 
they occurred the city was under the edict of martial law. When 
military rule was at an end, Jackson had to answer for his inter- 
ference with the civil courts. He did not attempt to defend him- 
self, but paid the penalty imposed (a fine of one thousand dollars), 
with the consciousness that he had done his duty thoroughly, if a 
little sternly. 

In the month of March General Jackson returned once more 
to his home in Tennessee, carrying with him a larger amount of 
popularity than had ever been borne by any man except "Wash- 
ington. For two years he remained on his farm, prepared for 
service, if need be, but occupied with rural pleasures and labors. 
In 1817 fresh difficulties were experienced from the Indians, and 
General Jackson received orders to repair to Fort Scott, and take 
the command of the forces in that quarter, with authority, in case 
he should deem it necessary, to call upon the executives of the ad- 
joining states for additional troops. They also authorized him to 
cross the Florida line, if necessary to the execution of his orders. 
Florida was then a Spanish possession. The power vested in 
Jackson shows the confidence in which he was held by the gov- 
ernment. 



ANDREW JACKSON. 19 

The campaign against the Seminoles was prosecuted with great 
vigor, and without any special delicacy concerning Spanish rights, 
or squeamishness about hanging and shooting British prisoners. 
It was brought to a successful termination, but did not contribute 
to the general's permanent fame. 

In June, 1818, Jackson was once more at the Hermitage, but, 
as his conduct in the Seminole war was arraigned by the House 
of Representatives and by the press, he determined on visiting 
Washington for the purpose of defending himself. He made a 
kind of triumphal journey, receiving honors in every city through 
which he passed. No man could be more popular with the masses 
than the gallant defender of New Orleans. If he had been a little 
harsh, and a trifle unmindful of the law of nations, people were 
disposed to be lenient with a man whose integrity and sincere 
patriotism were beyond the breath of suspicion. It is almost un- 
necessary to add that he succeeded in clearing himself before the 
country. 

When the Floridas w r ere ceded by Spain to America, the Presi- 
dent appointed General Jackson to act in the first place as com- 
missioner for receiving the provinces, and then to assume the 
government of them. It was intended and expressed that the 
American governor should exercise all the functions belonging 
to the Spanish governors, captain-general, and intendants, until 
Congress should provide a deliberate system of administration, as 
in the instances of the other territories. 

On the 1st of July, 1821, General Jackson entered upon his 
delicate office, and at once published a declaration announcing 
that the authority of the United States thereafter existed in the 
Territory. He had some difficulties to encounter with the Span- 
ish governors, who did not cheerfully surrender the records and 
state papers in their possession. Jackson had to resort to arbi- 
trary measures, and did so with success, but not without again 
provoking bitter complaints at Washington. 

On the 7th of October Jackson delegated his power to two 
gentlemen, his secretaries, and returned to Nashville. The con- 
dition of his health was one of the reasons which induced him to 
take this step. On the 4th of July, 1822, the Governor of Ten- 
nessee, acting for the Legislature, presented him with a sword, 
as a testimonial "of the high respect" entertained by the state 
for his public services ; and on the 20th of August of the same 



20 SELF-MADE MEN. 

year, the members of the General Assembly of Tennessee recom- 
mended him to the Union for the office of President, a recom- 
mendation which was repeated by the Legislature of Alabama, 
and various assemblages of private citizens in other parts of the 
country. In the autumn of 1823 he was elected to the Senate 
of the United States, and in the following year was put in regular 
nomination for the presidency. The election had to be decided 
by the House of Representatives, and Adams, who stood next to 
Jackson in popularity at the polls, was declared to be President. 

After the expiration of four years Jackson was once more en- 
tered for the grand presidential race. He distanced his rival, 
and was elected President (1828), and re-elected (1832), thus 
serving his country in the highest office within her gift for a term 
of eight years. The same decision which characterized his mili- 
tary career gave strength and vigor to his presidency. It exposed 
him, however, to the severest red-tape criticism, and it is not yet 
conceded that some of the individual actions of President Jackson 
were those which can be safely handed down as wholesome pre- 
cedents for the future administration of the country. 

On retiring from the presidency in 1836, General Jackson re- 
turned to his home in Tennessee, where he remained in honor- 
able retirement for the residue of his life, largely respected by all 
classes of men, and looked up to by a great party as the oracle 
of its destinies. He died on the 8th of June, 1845. The heart 
of the nation was profoundly moved by the calamity, and some 
of her most eminent sons pronounced eulogiums on the departed 
warrior. Prom one of these — the splendid effort of Daniel Webster 
— we reproduce the following estimate of the general's character: 

"The character of General Jackson while he lived was pre- 
sented in two relations to his country. He was a soldier, and 
had commanded the armies of the republic, and he has filled the 
office of chief magistrate. So far as regards his military reputa- 
tion and merits, I partake fully in the general estimate. He was 
a soldier of dauntless courage, vigor, and perseverance, an officer 
of skill and sagacity, of quickness of perception, and of prompt 
and resolute execution of his purposes. There is probably no 
division, at home or abroad, as to his merits in these particulars. 

" During the whole of his civil administration it happened that 
I was a member of the Senate of the United States, and it was 
my misfortune to be obliged to differ with him in regard to most 






ANDREW JACKSON. 21 

of his leading measures. To me this was painful, because it 
much better suits my temper and feelings to be able to support 
the measures of government than to find myself called upon by 
duty to oppose them. 

"There were occasions, however, in the course of his adminis- 
tration, in which no duty of opposition devolved upon me. Some 
of these were not unimportant. There were times which appear- 
ed to me to be critical, calling for wisdom and energy on the part 
of the government, and in which measures proposed and opin- 
ions expressed by him seemed to me to be highly suitable to the 
exigency. On these occasions I supported those measures with 
the same sincerity and zeal as if I had never differed from him 
before, or never expected to differ from him again. 

" There is no doubt that he sought to distinguish himself by 
exalting the character and honor of his country, and the occa- 
sion on which it was uttered rendered somewhat remarkable his 
celebrated sentiment in favor of the preservation of the Union. 
I believe he felt the sentiment with the utmost sincerity, and this 
can not be denied to be one strong proof of his devotion to the 
true interests of his country. 

" He has now ceased from his earthly labors, and affects the 
public interests of the state only by his example and the influ- 
ence of his opinions. We may well suppose that in the last days, 
and hours, and moments of his life, and with the full conscious- 
ness of the change then before him and so near, one of his warm- 
est wishes would be, that whatever errors he might have commit- 
ted should be passing and transitory in their effect upon the Con- 
stitution and institutions of his country ; and while we may 
well ascribe this praiseworthy and benign sentiment to him, let 
us, with equal ingenuousness, cherish the feeling, that whatever 
lie has accomplished for the real good of the country, its true char- 
acter and real glory, may remain a just inheritance attached to 
his memory." 

"In person," says one of his biographers, "General Jackson 
was tall, and remarkably erect and thin. His weight bore no pro- 
portion to his height, and his frame in general did not appear 
fitted for trials such as it had borne. His features were large ; 
his eyes dark blue, with a keen and strong glance ; his eyebrows 
arched and prominent, and his complexion that of the war-worn 
soldier. His demeanor was easv and £entle : in everv station he 



22 SELF-MADE MEN. 

was Open and accessible to all. The irritability of his temper, 
which was not denied by his friends, produced contrasts in his 
manner and countenance leading to very different conceptions and 
representations as to both ; but those who have lived and acted 
with him bear unanimous testimony to the general mildness of 
his carriage and the kindness of his disposition. It is certain 
that he inspired his soldiers, his military household, his domestic 
circle, and his neighbors with the most affectionate sentiments. 
The impetuosity of his nature, his impatience of wrong and en- 
croachment, his contempt for meanness, and his tenaciousness of 
just authority, involved him in bitter altercations and sanguinary 
duels : his resentments were fiercely executed, and his censures 
rashly uttered ; yet he can not be accused of wanton or mali- 
cious violence ; the sallies which may be deemed intemperate can 
be traced to strong provocation, operating, in most instances, upon 
his patriotic zeal, and the very generosity and loftiness of his 
spirit." 



JACOB LEISLEE. 

The downfall of Popeiy in England, occasioned by the flight of 
King James and the accession of William of Orange, produced a 
revolution and a hero in New York both of a remarkable nature. 
It is a fragment of history belonging exclusively to the times, and 
having no kind of bearing on subsequent events, except that its 
lesson has been too soon forgot. But it ended in bloodshed, and 
in the martyrdom of a man whose name will be imperishably re- 
corded in the annals of the country. 

When the news of the change of dynasty in England reached 
New York, it was greeted with approbation by the majority of 
the inhabitants. Papists who held offices were at once suspended. 
By this action, and by the common cause of misfortune, they be- 
came banded together, and formed a formidable party, all the 
more dangerous from the fact that the administration under the 
new government had not yet made its appearance. Fearful ru- 
mors were circulated that the Jacobites (as they were called) in- 
tended to take summary vengeance on the triumphant Protestants; 
that they were marching in great force to destroy the city, and 
generally that they were going to avenge the cause of their fallen 
master in a savage manner, and regain the authority which had 
been hastily wrested from them. 

In a community not abundantly protected, these rumors and 
apprehensions were very fearful. The desire for safety suggested 
to the citizens the propriety of delegating the entire authority of 
the city to one man, until such time as the new governor appoint- 
ed by William should arrive. The choice fell upon Jacob Leisler, 
the subject of the present brief sketch. 

Of Leisler' s early history very little is known. He came be- 
fore the public at a time when the hard work of his life — the 
building of a fortune — had been nearly accomplished. Previous 
to this he had resided in Albany, probably engaged in the fur 
trade, and where also he discharged the duties of a magistrate. 
He was known for his opposition to Popery, and for the exercise 
of all his power to prevent its spread. From Albany he came to 



24 SELF-MADE MEN. 

New York, and at once obtained popularity by benevolently pur- 
chasing the freedom of a family of French Huguenots, who were 
so poverty-stricken on landing that a public tribunal decided they 
should be sold into slavery in order to pay the expenses of their 
voyage. By these and similar acts Leisler became known, and fa- 
vorably known, to the little community. 

At that time there were five military companies in the city, 
and a sergeant's guard of royal troops. These were the only or- 
ganized protectors of the town, and were under the command of 
Nicholas Bayard, a man who was believed to be favorable to the 
cause of the late king. Jacob Leisler was captain of one of the 
companies, and was eminently popular with the men and with 
his brother officers, excepting, of course, the colonel. 

On the 2d of June, 1689, the people of New York, supported 
by the military companies aforesaid, proceeded to the residence of 
Leisler, and invited him to place himself at their head. At first 
he refused, but finally consented. Immediately afterward the 
keys of the fort were placed in his hands. Alarmed at these 
proceedings, Lieutenant Governor Nicholson convened his coun- 
cil, and, calling upon all public magistrates to unite with him, he 
demanded the government money, which, being kept in the fort, 
was now in possession of Leisler. No attention was of course 
paid to the demand. The colonel of the military companies also 
tried what effect his influence would have, but found out in a 
very short time that the most prudent thing he could do was to 
look after his own safety. On Leisler's side, four hundred of his 
companions in arms signed an agreement to hold the fort "for 
the present Protestant power that reigns in England," while a 
committee of safety, composed often freeholders of the city, whose 
names, as they have come down to us, represent in equal ratio the 
Dutch, the French, and the English population of that early pe- 
riod, assumed the powers of a provisionary government, of which 
they declared Jacob Leisler to be the head. They appointed him 
" captain of the fort or citadel," gave him power " to suppress ex- 
ternal and internal enemies of the peace, and preserve the order 
of the Province of New York," to " use the power of authority of 
commander-in-chief until orders shall have come from their maj- 
esties," and to " do all such acts as were requisite for the good 
of the province, taking council with the militia and civil author- 
ity as occasion might require." 



JACOB LEISLER- 25 

Leisler's first act was one of loyalty. He proclaimed King- 
William by sound of trumpet to the rejoicing people. This step 
provoked immediate action from the other side. The deposed 
Jacobins appointed three commissioners to receive the revenues 
until orders should arrive from the king. Leisler proceeded to 
the Custom-house, where the commissioners held their meetings, 
and demanded by what right they pretended to act. The only 
reply they condescended to make was an attempt to forcibly eject 
Leisler from their presence. Nothing could have been more ill 
advised. The adherents of the popular cause were naturally in- 
censed at the treatment of their captain. The preparatory dem- 
onstrations of a riot began to show themselves. Captain Bayard 
was set upon, and would have been the first victim of vengeance 
but for the intercession of Leisler. It became apparent that it 
would not do to trifle with the people, so Bayard fled to Albany, 
rather the worse for handling, and Nicholson, the lieutenant gov- 
ernor, obtained safety on shipboard, and, as soon as possible, sailed 
for England. 

When quiet was restored, Leisler made active preparations for 
the defense of the city, not only against the Papists, but against 
the French. He established a six-gunned battery commanding 
the harbor, and thereby secured for the city one of the most pleas- 
ant promenades it can boast (the Battery). Having thus at- 
tended to the most important duties of his station, he sat down 
and honestly wrote an account of what he had done to the King 
of England. He was not much of a scholar, and there were some 
defects in the style and spelling of his dispatch, but it was straight- 
forward and manly, and told the truth — qualities that are not 
too often combined in official documents. 

To provide against an invasion of French and Indians from 
Canada, Leisler dispatched his secretary, Colonel Milbourne (who 
had recently arrived from England), to Albany, with a body of 
followers. They took their departure in three ships, and arrived 
in due course. At this time most of the officials at Albany held 
their commissions from the deposed monarch, and were conse- 
quently violently opposed to the administration of Leisler, whom 
they denounced as a boor, and looked upon as a usurper. The 
most active among these was Robert Livingston, and by his insti- 
gation the citizens of Albany were made to believe that Milbourne 
and the troops under his command came to invade their rights, 

B 



26 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and not to protect them. Bloodshed would have resulted but for 
the discretion and cool bravery of Milbourne. 

When these things were made known to Leisler, he immedi- 
ately issued a warrant against Livingston as a rebel, and against 
Colonel Bayard, who had also contributed his influence to excite 
the Albanians. Livingston fled to New England, and was not 
heard of afterward, except in a very tragical way, which will be 
related hereafter. Bayard sneaked into New York, and tried to 
obtain possession, in a surreptitious way, of a dispatch from the 
king. He was denounced to Leisler by the bearer of the dispatch 
in question ; was forthwith arrested and put in jail " upon the 
charge of high misdemeanors against his majesty's authority." 

These events gave a decided character to the administration of 
Jacob Leisler, and his opponents saw that nothing but an exten- 
sive and unscrupulous organization could overthrow its power. 
Parties were now distinctly defined : for the people's governor — 
for the Jacobites. 

In midwinter the threatened attack of the French took place. 
On the 9th of February, 1690, after a remarkable march, about 
two hundred French and Indians made a sudden descent upon 
Schenectady, and massacred sixty-three men, women, and chil- 
dren, besides making twenty-seven prisoners and destroying the 
village. The atrocity and boldness of this crime threw the prov- 
ince into a state of the most intense agony. For their own safety, 
the Albanians were now ready to co-operate with the executive 
of New York. Leisler concluded, and wisely, that the success of 
this attack would lead to others of a more horrible character, and 
that the only remedy was to carry the war into the enemy's own 
country, and conquer Canada itself. He at once addressed let- 
ters to the governors of the other provinces, and Jersey, Mary- 
land, and Connecticut favored the enterprise. Thus encouraged, 
he straightway armed and equipped the first man-of-war ever fitted 
out in the harbor of New-York ; and in a short time a fleet of 
three vessels sailed from the bay, with orders to proceed immedi- 
ately to Quebec, and co-operate with the land forces that would 
join them there from the other provinces. This decision and ac- 
tivity met with a poor return. A number of disasters befell the 
expedition, and no good was done at all. There is no reason to 
doubt that Leisler' s enemies threw all the impediments they could 
in his way, and were perhaps more pleased with the failure of the 



JACOB LEISLER. 27 

expedition than they would have been with its success. Certain 
it is that the land forces (upon whom every thing depended) un- 
der General Winthrop made an ignominious retreat, without hav- 
ing even reached the shores of Lake Champlain. 

When the news became known to Leisler, he hurried in person 
to Albany, and ordered the general to be placed under arrest — 
a very proper measure, but extremely hazardous for one whose 
power was not yet consolidated. The Jacobites attributed the 
failure of the expedition to Leisler, and this decided action was a 
good opportunity for raising the cry of tyranny. All the malcon- 
tents united themselves to oppose the power of the governor and 
to effect his overthrow. The people, who had exhausted them- 
selves in equipping the unsuccessful expedition, were impatient 
and dissatisfied. It was not difficult to persuade the thoughtless 
and unreasonable masses. The Jacobites had their opportunity, 
and made the best use of it. 

In England a new governor had been appointed by William as 
early as 1689, but, until two years later, Leisler knew nothing of 
the circumstance. The first notice of Governor Sloughter's ap- 
pointment was brought to this country by Captain Ingoldsby, who, 
with his company, arrived in advance. This weak creature fell 
into the hands of the anti-Leislerians, and was immediately used 
by them. With an impudence that was remarkable even for a 
captain of foot, he demanded that Leisler should immediately sur- 
render his authority into his hands. Leisler replied that he would 
do so the moment he saw an order from the British ministry re- 
quiring him to do so, or from Colonel Sloughter, the newly-ap- 
pointed governor. Ingoldsby being destitute of the authority that 
Leisler required, the latter simply issued a proclamation announc- 
ing that Colonel Sloughter had been appointed governor of the 
Province of New York, and that on his arrival the fort and gov- 
ernment would be cheerfully. surrendered to him. In the mean 
time he desired that Ingoldsby and his companions might receive 
all proper entertainment and kindness. 

This discreet policy did not satisfy the enemies of Leisler. The 
willing tool, Ingoldsby, was once more used to make another de- 
mand for the surrender of the fort, and, being again unsuccessful, 
to end by besieging it. Leisler was not to be intimidated, and 
retained possession, protesting most vehemently against the con- 
duct of Ingoldsby. Lie had the mayor and common council on 
his side, but against him were wealth, fanaticism, and unscrupu- 



28 SELF-MADE MEN. 

lousness. The royal authority, too, was held in dread, and people 
were afraid of opposing it even in a right cause. Desertions be- 
came frequent from the popular ranks. Every day Ingoldsby's po- 
sition became stronger. He saw his advantage, and freely used the 
terrible word rebel against Leisler and those who sided with him. 

The noble little band were not to be daunted by words. They 
simply replied that they would not be turned from their duty to 
God and the king by fear of the term rebels, and resolved that 
they would protect their liberty at the hazard of their lives. In- 
goldsby and his backers were somewhat daunted by this courage- 
ous action ; but, while they were deliberating as to what should 
be the next step, the long absent Sloughter made his appearance 
(19th of March, 1691). Before he had touched land, Ingoldsby, 
as the mouthpiece of the Jacobin party, had poisoned his ear 
with an ex parte statement. 

Leisler's first act was to satisfy himself as to the identity of 
Sloughter. He then dispatched his son-in-law, Col. Milbourne, 
and Mr. De la Noye, the mayor, to consult with him as to the 
proper form of making a transfer of the government, and also to 
procure some guarantee for the safety of himself and his friends. 
These peaceful embassadors were immediately handed over to the 
guard. Thus brutally outraged, Leisler determined that he would 
not surrender the fort until the governor and his full council had 
taken the customary oath of allegiance to the Protestant king and 
government. This ceremony was gone through on the day follow- 
ing, and Leisler immediately handed over his authority to the new 
official. He felt that he had protected the province in a critical 
period ; that he had acted firmly and conscientiously for the com- 
mon good. It was with a sense of relief, therefore, that he wrote 
to Sloughter " that he would give his excellency an exact account 
of all his actions and conduct." 

The ink with which he wrote was scarcely dry when he and 
nine of his friends were dragged off to prison as common rebels. 
A special commission of Oyer and Terminer was issued to try the 
prisoners, and the governor named eight judges for the purpose. 
The task of making a selection was an easy one. He selected 
four of his own friends and four others who were known enemies 
of Leisler. "When the trial came on, Leisler refused to acknowl- 
edge the authority of the court, but it was of no avail. An in- 
iquitous verdict was returned, and Leisler and Milbourne were 
condemned to death. 



JACOB LEISLER. 29 

By this time Sloughter seems to have awakened to a slight 
sense of justice, as clear, perhaps, as his fuddled faculties would 
allow him to see it. He hesitated to sign the death-warrant. 
This did not satisfy the bloodhounds who were seeking Leisler's 
life. Unfortunately, they were acquainted with Sloughter's weak- 
nesses. They invited him to a supper, plied him with wine, and 
in the midst of the orgy the drunken idiot scrawled his name to the 
fatal document. Without a moment's delay it was conveyed to the 
sheriff, and the two unfortunate men were led forth to execution. 

The scaffold stood at the lower end of what is now called the 
Park. A company of soldiers under the command of Ingoldsby 
surrounded it, and kept off the populace, already pressing forward 
to obtain a last look of a noble martyr and his brave companion ; 
some, perhaps, to triumph over their downfall. They stood to- 
gether, unawed by the occasion. Milbourne spoke first. He had 
but little to say, but it was awful : " Robert Livingston, I will im- 
plead thee at the bar of heaven for this deed !" Leisler, touched 
by the untimely fate of his son-in-law, turned to him and said, < 
"Why must you die? You have been but as a servant doing my 
will, and, as a dying man, I declare before God that what I have 
done was for King William and Queen Mary, the defense of the 
Protestant religion, and the good of the country." Commending 
his soul to the Savior, and praying for his enemies, "Father, 
forgive them; they know not what they do," this strong man, 
upright and noble to the last, suffered the final penalty of the 
law, if the word law can be used in such a base connection. A 
fierce tempest raged in the heavens, as if Nature were indignant 
at the outrage. " The shrieks of the people," says a writer of 
the time, "were dreadful; some were carried away lifeless, and 
some, rushing forward, almost ere the life of their beloved ruler 
was extinct, cut off pieces of his garments as precious relics, and 
his hair was divided, out of great veneration, as for a martyr." 

These measures were subsequently disapproved by the English 
king, and the attainders against the murdered heroes reversed ; 
but the shame of the transaction will last to the end of history. 
Well might Dr. Increase Mather write to Governor Dudley, " I 
am afraid that the guilt of innocent blood is still crying in the 
ears of the Lord against you : I mean the blood of Leisler and 
Milbourne. My Lord Bellamont said to me that he was one of 
the committee of Parliament who examined the matter, and that 
those men were not only murdered, but barbarously murdered." 




DANIEL WEBSTER 

This renowned statesman and eloquently intellectual man was 
born at Salisbury, Merrimac County, New Hampshire, on the 
18th of January, 1782. In the immediate vicinity his ancestors 
(who were of Scotch descent) had lived from the earliest times. 
The house in which he was born was the centre of a tract of one 
hundred and sixty acres of land, on the produce of which the 
family depended. His father was a man of large and stalwart 
form, of swarthy complexion, and of remarkable features ; of clear 
intellect, strong convictions, and indomitable will. Many of these 
traits, especially the last, survived in his illustrious son. 

From his mother Daniel Webster received the first rudiments 
of an education. Mrs. Webster is described as an unusually beau- 
tiful woman, of superior intellect and of the warmest affections. 
She prophesied that her son would become eminent, and lived to 
see a portion of the prophecy fulfilled. He was a member of 
Congress when she died. 

About half a mile from the farm was a log school-house kept 
by Master Tappan. To this primitive academy the little Daniel 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 31 

repaired when he could be spared from home. ''He was the 
brightest boy in the school," wrote the master many years after- 
ward, "and Ezekiel next; but Daniel was much quicker at his 
studies than his brother. He would learn more in five minutes 
than another boy in five hours. One Saturday, I remember, I 
held up a handsome new jack-knife to the scholars, and said, the 
boy who would commit to memory the greatest number of verses 
in the Bible by Monday morning should have it. Many of the 
boys did well ; but when it came to Daniel's turn to recite, I found 
that he had committed so much, that, after hearing him repeat 
some sixty or seventy verses, I was obliged to give up, he telling 
me that there were several chapters yet that he had learned. 
Daniel got that jack-knife." Mr. Webster never forgot his early 
tutor, and only a few months before his death wrote him a kind 
note inclosing a remittance. In the busy time of the year Daniel 
"Webster assisted his father. He was a " handy" lad, and could 
learn how to do a thing with much quickness. He was particu- 
larly useful in assisting his father to saw logs at a little mill 
which he worked. Here, while waiting for the saw to pass 
through the logs (an operation which consumed about ten min- 
utes), he economized his time by carefully studying some author 
whose prized volume he had brought with him. So tenacious 
was his memory, that, in the last year of his life, he was able to 
recite large portions of the works he had committed in this 
strange manner. It was at this period of his life that he first be- 
came acquainted with the Constitution of the United States, the 
first copy of which he perused on a cotton pocket-handkerchief 
imported from England. 

When Mr. W^ebster had attained his fourteenth year, he had 
an opportunity of spending a few months at the Phillips Acade- 
my, Exeter, where he enjoyed the tuition and kindly counsels of 
Dr. Benjamin Abbot. He mastered the principles and philoso- 
phy of the English grammar in less than four months, and imme- 
diately commenced the study of the Latin. In his fifteenth year 
he was privileged to spend some months with the Eev. Samuel 
Woods, a popular divine who lived at Boscawen, and prepared 
boys for college at one dollar a week for tuition and board. 
Daniel was unmindful of the routine of the establishment, al- 
though he studied his lessons attentively and well. He seemed 
to be too fond of hunting hi the neighborhood, and Mr. Woods 



32 SELF-MADE MEN. 

reprimanded him, giving him, as a punishment, a hundred lines of 
Virgil to commit to memory. Daniel made up his mind that he 
would be revenged. He knew that on the next day Mr. Woods 
Avanted to get away from the school as early as possible, in order 
to pay a visit to a neighboring town ; before going, however, he 
was to hear the hundred lines. On the following morning Dan- 
iel presented himself, book in hand, and without the slightest hes- 
itation recited the hundred lines in a way which drew forth the 
commendation of his instructor. " I have a few more lines that 
I can recite," said the malicious Daniel, as he observed Mr. Woods 
about to close the book and take his departure. An additional 
hundred lines were reeled off with the greatest ease. "You are 
a smart boy," said Mr. Woods, making another start for the door. 
" I have a few more I can recite, sir," said Daniel, adding, byway 
of last feather to break the camel's back, " about five hundred, I 
think." This was more than the doctor had bargained for. He 
was behind time with his engagement, and was really the only 
one of the twain who received punishment. " That is enough, 
•Dan ; you may have the whole day for pigeon-shooting." 

The extraordinary promise which Daniel Webster displayed 
induced his father, though ill able to bear the expense, to send 
him to Dartmouth, where he graduated in 1801. His progress in 
the college had been so rapid that it was fully expected he would 
have received the valedictory, but that was reserved for some 
more fortunate scholar. All that he received was a diploma, 
which he deliberately tore up in the presence of a few compan- 
ions. "My industry may make me a great man," he said, "but 
this miserable parchment can not." It must not be supposed 
from this circumstance that Mr. Webster was indifferent to the 
advantages of a college education. On the contrary, the moment 
he returned home it became the object of his life to secure to his 
brother Ezekiel similar advantages. He felt probably a little in- 
dignant that he had received merely the common honors of the 
collegiate, when he had worked for something more praiseworthy. 
It was his determination now to become a schoolmaster, in order 
that he might have the funds to assist his brother. In a short 
time he established himself in Fryeburg, Maine, with a friend of 
his father. He received a salary of $350, and by devoting his 
evenings to the laborious occupation of copying deeds for the 
county recorder at twenty-five cents each, was able to make a 



DANIEL WEBSTEE. 33 

considerable increase to this sum. The latter occupation direct- 
ed his attention to the study of the law, and while pursuing it 
he carefully read Blackstone's Commentaries and other substan- 
tial works, which contributed in a large measure to the solid 
foundation of his after-fame. Mr. Webster described himself at 
this time as " long, slender, pale, and all eyes." Pie was known 
round the country by the nickname of All Eyes. In his habits he 
was remarkably steady, his only recreation being trout-fishing, 
the solitary enjoyment of which he greatly enhanced by usually 
taking with him a volume of Shakspeare. 

Mr. "Webster studied the law with Mr. Christopher Gore, and 
was admitted to practice in Boston in 1805. Two years later he 
was admitted to practice in the courts of New Hampshire, and 
soon after took up his residence at Portsmouth, where he remained 
about nine years. He enjoyed a fair share of practice, and was 
able to assist his father in a pecuniary way, so as to relieve him 
of a burden of debts which pressed heavily on his spirits. 

In 1817 Mr. Webster took up his permanent residence in the 
city of Boston, This step was rendered necessary by the condi- 
tion of his finances, which had suffered greatly by his election to 
Congress (in 1812), and by a fire in which all his property was 
destroyed. In Boston he was welWknown and highly appreciated, 
but it was a dangerous experiment for a young man to thrust him- 
self into an arena where the best forensic talent of the country 
struggled for pre-eminence. He had the friendship of a number 
of opulent merchants, and in a few months his name was known 
as the senior counsel in many important trials. His powers were 
soon recognized, and the sharpness of his invective, free, however, 
from narrowness or personality, became a matter of complaint 
with his brethren of the bar. The people appreciated this kind 
of oratory, and he soon became famous. " As were his manners 
at the bar some thirty years ago," says Mr. Knapp, " so were they 
through his life, whenever he appeared in a deliberative assembly. 
He began to state his points in a low voice, and in a slow, cool, 
cautious, and philosophical manner. If the case was of import- 
ance, he went on hammering out, link by link, the chain of argu- 
ment with ponderous blows leisurely inflicted ; and while thus at 
labor, you rather saw the sinews of the arm than the skill of the 
artist. It was in reply, however, that he came out in the majesty 
of intellectual grandeur, and poured forth the opulence of his mind ; 

B 2 



34 SELF-MADE MEN. 

it was when the arrows of the enemy had hit him 1 that he was all 
might and soul, and showered his words of weight and fire. His 
style of oratory was founded on no model, but was entirely his own. 
He dealt not with the fantastical and poetical, but with the mat- 
ter-of-fact every-day world, and the multifarious affairs of his fel- 
low-men, extricating them from difficulties, and teaching them 
how to become happy. He never strove to dazzle, astonish, or 
confuse, but went on to convince and conquer by great but legiti- 
mate means. When he went out to battle he went alone, trust- 
ing to no earthly arm but his own. He asked for no trophies but 
his own conquests ; he looked not for the laurel of victory, but it 
was proffered to him by all, and bound his brow until he went 
out on some new exploit." 

Mr. Webster's public career belongs to the history of the coun- 
try. In this place it is only necessary to say that he occupied a 
prominent position in its councils for upward of forty years — for 
a good portion of the time being nearest to the President in po- 
sition, and seldom falling beneath him in absolute power. "It 
was before he had attained his thirtieth year," says Mr. Lanman, 
in his interesting " Private Life of Daniel Webster," quoting from 
Knapp, "when the times were stormy, and party spirit ran high 
in view of a war with Great Britain, that he entered the field of 
politics, like one who had made up his mind to be decided and 
straightforward in all his actions. No politician was ever more 
direct and bold, and he had nothing of the demagogue about him. 
Fully persuaded of the true course, he followed it with so much 
firmness and principle that sometimes his serenity was taken by 
the furious and headstrong as apathy ; but when a fair and legiti- 
mate opportunity offered, he came out with such strength and 
manliness that the doubting were satisfied and the complaining si- 
lenced. In the worst of times and the darkest hour, he had faith 
in the redeeming qualities of the people. They might be wrong, 
but he saw into their true character sufficiently to believe that 
they would never remain permanently in error. In some of his 
conversations upon the subject, he compared the people, in the 
management of the national affairs, to that of the sagacious and 
indefatigable raftsmen on his native Merrimac, who had falls 
and shoals to contend with in their course to the ocean, guid- 
ing fearlessly and skillfully over the former, between rocks and 
through breakers ; and, when reaching the sand-banks, jumping 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 35 

off into the water with lever, axe, and oar ; and then, with push- 
ing, cutting, and directing, made all rub and go, to the astonish- 
ment of those looking on. The first political glory that hung 
around his brow was at a convention of the great spirits in the 
county of Rockingham, where he then resided, and such repre- 
sentatives from other counties as were sent to this convention, to 
take into consideration the state of the nation, and to mark out 
such a course for themselves as should be deemed advisable by 
the collected wisdom of those assembled. On this occasion, an 
address, with a string of resolutions, were proposed for adoption, 
of which he was the author. They exhibited uncommon powers 
of intellect, and a profound knowledge of our national interests. 
He made a most powerful speech in support of these resolutions, 
portions of which were printed at the time, and much admired 
throughout the Union. From this time he belonged to the United 
States, and not to New Hampshire exclusively. Massachusetts 
also took as great an interest in his career as his native state. 
After the above debiit, crowds gathered around him on every oc- 
casion that he appeared, and his speeches were invariably received 
with the most sincere and heartfelt applause." The preparation 
of these speeches was a matter of serious solicitude to Mr. "Web- 
ster. He obtained the material for them with great care and in- 
dustry, and wrought them with considerable labor. They were, 
on all important occasions, finished productions, which will en- 
dure as long as the language is read and understood. Mr. Web- 
ster was not a believer in extemporaneous oratory. The position 
he occupied before the world was undoubtedly one reason why 
he bestowed unusual care on all his efforts ; another is to be found 
in the fact that he had never " gone through the mill" in State 
Legislatures. In alluding to this circumstance at Syracuse, Mr. 
Webster made the following humorous remarks : "It has so hap- 
pened that all the public services which I have rendered in the 
world, in my day and generation, have been connected with the 
general government. I think I ought to make an exception. I 
was ten days a member of the Massachusetts Legislature, and I 
turned my thoughts to the search of some good object in which I 
could be useful in that position ; and, after much reflection, I in- 
troduced a bill, which, with the general consent of both houses of 
the Massachusetts Legislature, passed into a law, and is now a 
law of the state, which enacts that no man in the state shall catch 



36 SELF-MADE MEN. 

trout in tiny other manner than in the old way with an ordinary 
hook and line. (Great laughter.) With that exception, I never 
was connected for an hour with any state government in my life. 
I never held office, high or low, under any state government. 
Perhaps that was my misfortune. 

" At the age of thirty I was in New Hampshire practicing law, 
and had some clients. John Taylor Gilman, who for fourteen 
years was governor of the state, thought that, a young man as I 
was, I might be fit to be an attorney general of the State of 
New Hampshire, and he nominated me to the council ; and the 
council, taking it into their deep consideration, and not happen- 
ing to be of the same politics as the governor and myself, voted, 
three out of five, that I was not competent, and very likely they 
were right. (Laughter.) So you see, gentlemen, I never gained 
promotion in any state government." 

In 1807 Mr. Webster found himself in a position to settle in 
life, and was united In marriage to Grace Fletcher, a young lady 
of his own age, with whom he had long had a satisfactory under- 
standing. Mrs. Webster died in 1827, leaving a husband who 
never ceased to remember her with affection. Mr. Webster de- 
lighted to speak of her as the "mother of his children" — a title 
fraught with exalted love. In April, 1816, Mrs. Webster, the 
mother of the statesman, died, at the advanced age of seventy-six. 
Among the specimens of art which adorned Mr. Webster's library 
at Marshfield was a quaint old profile, cut in black paper, as was 
the fashion some years back. Under the portrait were the words, 
"My excellent mother," in the handwriting of the statesman. 
Following close on this event was another which threw him into 
deep affliction, His first-born, and, at that time, only daughter, 
sickened and died. Throughout her illness Mr. Webster remained 
by her bedside, watching her with a tenderness almost feminine. 
He was detained from his place in Washington for two months 
of the session of 1816-17 by this calamity. 

When Mr. Webster settled in Boston it was his intention to 
decline all political nominations, and devote himself exclusively 
to the pursuit of his profession. For a time he succeeded in 
doing so, but occupying as he did a most prominent place in the 
public regard, the task was a difficult one. In 1822 a committee 
called upon him and read to him the vote of the Convention by 
which he liad been nominated a representative to the Congress 






DANIEL WEBSTER. 37 

of the United States, and informed him that they were instructed 
to listen to no answer. Mr. Webster thus found himself almost 
a compulsory candidate. He was elected by a thousand majority, 
and re-elected in 1824, receiving four thousand and ninety out of 
five thousand votes. In 1826 he was re-elected for the third time, 
but, before taking his seat, a vacancy occurring in the senatorial 
delegation, he was sent to the Senate of the United States by the 
Legislature of Massachusetts. It was while on his way to Wash- 
ington that his wife died in the city of New York. 

Mr. Webster visited Europe in 1839. In England he was re- 
ceived with gratifying enthusiasm. On his return he was called to 
the cabinet, and in relations equally near to the highest continued 
during the remainder of his political career. 

Mr. Webster was a man of enormous mental capacity, and from 
the earliest was a hard worker. He had the genius and the incli- 
nation to do things perfectly ; to do every thing as well as it could 
be done. He was methodical, and "an early riser." "What 
little I have accomplished," he used to say, " has been done early 
in the morning." He rose with the lark, and even in Washington 
found time to do the marketing for his own table, or to cast a fly 
on the Potomac before the business of the day commenced. Mr. 
Webster was passionately fond of out-door recreations ; he was a 
farmer in feeling and in fact. "You can not mention the fee which 
I value half as much as I do a morning walk over my farm, the 
sight of a dozen yoke of my oxen furrowing one of my fields, or 
the breath of my cows, and the pure ocean air." With in-door 
amusements, such as chess, billiards, etc., he was unfamiliar. 
Every one has heard of Mr. Webster's piscatorial predilections. 
Nothing gave him greater satisfaction than a quiet day's fishing. 

In his domestic habits he was remarkable for a graceful play- 
fulness and a complete unbending to the sportive impulse of the 
moment. When he arose in the morning he might be heard sing- 
ing a scrap of discordant melody, much to his own amusement. 
He generally wound up on such occasions with the remark that 
if there was any thing he understood well it was singing. He 
had a fondness, too, for spelling out, in the most unheard-of man- 
ner, the various familiar remarks which he had occasion to utter. 
The lowing of a cow or the cawing of a crow has sometimes"start- 
ed him not only to imitate those creatures with his own voice, 
but nearly all the other animals that were ever heard. He was 



38 SELF-MADE MEN. 

also in the habit, when in a certain mood, of grotesquely employ- 
ing the Greek, Latin, and French languages, with a sprinkling of 
Yankee and Western phrases, in familiar conversation ; and he 
had an amusing way of conjugating certain proper names, and of 
describing the characters of unknown persons by the meaning of 
their names. He was, withal, one of the best story-tellers in the 
world, and every thing he related in that line had a good climax. 
When fishing, he used to round off sentences for futnre use, and 
many a trout has been apostrophized in imperishable prose. A 
couple of fine fish were passed into his basket with the following 
rhetorical flourish, which was subsequently heard in the Bunker 
Hill Oration : " Venerable men ! you have come down to us from 
a former generation. Heaven has bounteously lengthened out 
your lives that you might behold this day." 

It remains for us now to transfer to these pages a record of the 
last moments of this truly great man. In doing so we shall use 
the language of Mr. Lanman, his private secretary and friend, who 
was with him to the. last, and who describes the last moments of 
Mr. Webster with such grace and simple loveliness that no excuse 
would justify the omission. 

"The more rapid decline of Mr. Webster commenced while at 
Marshfield, about one week before his death, which occurred just 
before three o'clock on Sunday morning, the twenty-fourth of Oc- 
tober (1852). He was in the seventy-first year of his age, and 
had, therefore, just passed the allotted period of human life. He 
looked upon his coming fate with composure and entire resigna- 
tion. On the afternoon of the twenty-third he conversed freely, 
and with great clearness and detail, in relation to the disposal of 
his affairs. His last autograph letter was addressed to the Pres- 
ident ; and among the directions that he gave respecting his mon- 
ument was that it should be no larger than those erected to the 
mother of his children, and to Julia and Edward. He dictated 
an epitaph, which will in due time be published. 

" At five o'clock he was seized with a violent nausea, and raised 
considerable dark matter tinged with blood, which left him in a 
state of great exhaustion and debility. The physician in attend- 
ance, Dr. John Jeffries, then announced to Mr. Webster that his 
last hour was rapidly approaching. He received the announce- 
ment calmly, and directed all the females of the family to be call- 
ed into the room, and addressed to each of them individually a 



DANIEL WEBSTER. 39 

few affectionate parting words, and bade them a final farewell. 
He then took leave of his male relatives and personal friends, in- 
cluding his farmers and servants, addressing each individually in 
reference to their past relations, and bade each an affectionate 
adieu. The last of his family that he parted with was Peter Har- 
vey Webster, a grandson, the child of Fletcher Webster, for whom 
he invoked the richest blessings of Heaven. He then said, as if 
speaking to himself, ' On the twenty-fourth of October all that is 
mortal of Daniel Webster will be no more.' In a full and clear 
voice he then prayed most fervently, and impressively concluded 
as follows : ' Heavenly Father, forgive my sins, and welcome me 
to thyself, through Christ Jesus.' Dr. Jeffries then conversed 
with him, and told him that medical skill could do nothing more, 
to which he replied, ' Then I am to lie here patiently to the end. 
If it be so, may it come soon.' His last words were, '/ still live ? 
and, coming froimsuch lips, it seems to me they can not but fully 
convince the most hardened skeptic of the immortality of the soul. 
They seem to fall upon the ear from beyond the tomb, and to be 
the language of a disembodied spirit passing into Paradise. Dur- 
ing his last hour he was entirely calm, and breathed his life away 
so peacefully that it was difficult to fix the precise moment that 
he expired." 

Mr. Webster was buried without form or parade at Marshfield, 
on the 29th of October, 1852, the simple and unpretending cer- 
emonies of the grave being performed by the village pastor. 
Throughout the length and breadth of the nation the memory of 
the departed was solemnly honored. In the heart of every Amer- 
ican, on that day and forever, Daniel Webster " still lives.'''' 




ELIHU BITKKITT. 

It was remarked by Coleridge that the shoemaker's trade nur- 
tured a greater number of eminent men than any other. Sir Ed- 
ward Bulwer Lytton quaintly theorizes on this assertion. In his 
novel of "What will he do with it?" he introduces a worthy son 
of St. Crispin, who, after touching on the mental peculiarities of 
butchers, bakers, and tallow-chandlers, establishes an agreeable 
comparison between his own trade and that of a tailor. " A tailor 
sits on a board with others, and is always a talking with 'em, and 
a reading the news ; therefore he thinks as his fellows do, smart 
and sharp, bang up to the day, but nothing 'riginal, and all his 
own like. But a cobbler," continued the man of leather, with a 
majestic air, " sits by hisself, and talks with hisself, and what he 
thinks gets into his head without being put there by another man's 
tongue." A reason sufficiently philosophical for human pur- 
poses. 

The subject of this memoir was the son of a shoemaker of 
Bridgeport, Connecticut, and was born at New Britain, in the 
same state, on the 11th of December, 1811. Both his parents 
were of English descent ; Elihu being the youngest of five broth- 



ELIHU BUERITT. 41 

ers, who, with five sisters, comprised his father's family. This ex- 
tensive home circle was swayed with upright firmness and pater- 
nal attention. The children were educated by their parents, and 
brought up in the fear of God, and love of liberty, so essential to 
the well-being of Eepublican youth. 

During the winter months Elihu and his brothers enjoyed the 
privilege of attending the district school, where, until he was six- 
teen years of age, he studied with avidity. It must be remember- 
ed, however, that it was only for three or four months in the year 
that he could be spared for these congenial pursuits. At other 
times he bore his share of the general labor. 

The death of Mr. Burritt occurred when Elihu was sixteen. 
It became necessary to strike out a path for himself in the world ; 
and, with this object in view, Elihu apprenticed himself to a black- 
smith, with whom he remained until his twenty-first year. Long 
before this period he had displayed a fervent thirst for knowledge. 
All the incidents of the Revolutionary war were securely stored 
in his mind; he was familiar with the Bible, and now obtained 
access to the town library. At the age of sixteen he had read 
every book of history contained in it. He next proceeded to po- 
etry. Thomson's " Seasons" took his earliest attention in this 
department. From the paucity of books, and his love of this kind 
of reading, he limited himself to a page a day, lest he should get 
through the luxury too soon. His memory was tenacious, and he 
committed astonishing quantities of "Young's Night Thoughts," 
" Pollok's Course of Time," " Shakspeare," and " Milton." Not- 
withstanding his literary tastes, he became a most excellent black- 
smith. He seemed to possess the faculty of making extremes 
meet in the most powerful way ; of welding sentences and cart- 
wheels with equal facility. 

Having digested all that he could attack in the library, and 
mastered his trade, he began to look fondly at those authors who 
were yet beyond his reach. The idea of becoming a scholar now 
illuminated his mind. It grew with his growth, and became irre- 
sistible. He determined that he would make an effort to accom- 
plish his desires, and, on the expiration of his indentures, placed 
himself under the tuition of his brother, a lawyer and man of 
education. "With the assistance which this gentleman afforded 
him Elihu pursued the study of the Mathematics, took up Latin, 
and commenced French. After spending the winter, and exhaust- 



42 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ing his scanty resources in this way, he returned to the forge, and 
voluntarily undertook the work of two men in order that he 
might make up for lost time. Physically laborious as was his oc- 
cupation, he wrought hard for fourteen hours a day. 

After he could read French with pleasure, says the Rever- 
end R W. Bailey, to whom we are. indebted for the materials of 
this sketch, he took up Spanish. After reading the Spanish with 
ease he commenced the Greek, carried his grammar in his hat 
while he worked, and studied at the anvil and the forge. He 
pursued this course until the fall of the year (1833). He then 
made his arrangements to devote himself to study for another win- 
ter. He went to New Haven, not so much, as he said, to find a 
teacher, as under a conviction that there was the proper place to 
study. As soon as he arrived he sat down to the reading of Ho- 
mer's Iliad alone, without notes, or translation, or any other help. 
At the close of the first day, after intense application, he had read 
fifteen lines, much to his own satisfaction. After this successful 
effort, he determined to go on without a teacher ; he accordingly 
made a systematic distribution of his time and studies. He rose 
at four, and studied German until breakfast, then studied Greek 
until noon, then spent an hour at Italian. In the afternoon he 
studied Greek until night, and then studied Spanish until bed- 
time. This course he continued until he could read two hundred 
lines a day of Homer, besides carrying forward the other studies 
in their order. During the winter he read twenty books of Ho- 
mer's Iliad, besides studying with equal success the other lan- 
guages in the hours assigned to them. 

In the spring he returned to the anvil, but an invitation to 
teach a grammar-school soon after induced him to cast aside his 
apron and assume the ferule of the pedagogue. In this occupa- 
tion he continued for a year, and then, as agent for a manufactur- 
ing company, traveled extensively through the country. During 
this period his studies were of course entirely interrupted. He 
returned to the anvil once more, and resumed his mental and 
physical labors with renewed enthusiasm. 

Having become proficient in the ancient and European lan- 
guages, this indefatigable scholar turned his attention to the Ori- 
ental tongues. The means for acquiring a competent knowledge 
of these were limited, and Burritt conceived the idea of enlisting 
as a sailor, in. order that he might travel to places more available 



ELIHU BURRITT. 43 

for his purposes. Acting on the impulse, he abandoned his forge, 
and proceeded to Boston to obtain a ship. Unsuccessful in this, 
lie began to look around, and heard accidentally of the American 
Antiquarian Society at Worcester. He immediately proceeded 
thither, and found, as he says, to his infinite gratification, such a 
collection of books on ancient, modern, and Oriental languages as 
he never before conceived to be collected together in one place. 
The free use of the library was cordially tendered to him, and, in 
order that he might enjoy it at his leisure, he made arrangements 
to study three hours a day, and follow his business of blacksmith 
at other times. In this manner he made the acquaintance of a 
number of Oriental tongues, and before he left Worcester was 
able to read " Hebrew, Greek, Latin, Gaelic, English, Welsh, Irish, 
Celtic, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian, German, Flemish, 
Saxon, Gothic, Icelandic, Polish, Bohemian, Russian, Sclavonic, 
Armenian, Turkish, Chaldaic, Syriac, Samaritan, Arabic, Ethio- 
pic, Indian, Sanscrit, and Tamul." 

Mr. Bailey publishes an interesting account of a visit to Mr. 
Burritt's smithy. " On my first arrival at Worcester, I proceeded 
directly from the cars to inquire out Mr. Burritt. After two or 
three directions I arrived at an extensive iron foundry. In a long 
line of workshops I was directed to that in which Mr. Burritt was 
employed. I entered, and, seeing several forges, sought for the 
object of my visit. 'He has just left, and is probably in his 
study,' said- a son of Vulcan, resting his hammer on his shoulder 
meanwhile ; ' there is his forge,' pointing to one that was silent. 
I had but a moment to study it. Its entire structure and appa- 
ratus resembled ordinary forges, except that it was neater and in 
better order. Mr. Burritt is a bachelor and a journeyman, and 
earns a shilling an hour by contract with the proprietor of this 
foundry. He lives and furnishes himself with books by this la-, 
borious application to his trade. Seeing on his table what ap- 
peared to be a diary, I read as follows : ' August 18. Forged 16 
hours — read Celtic 3 hours — translated 2 pages of Icelandic, and 
three pages of German.' This was a single item of similar rec- 
ords which run through the book. To abate my surprise, he 
told me that this was a correct memorandum of the labors of ev- 
ery day ; but the sixteen hours of labor was that which he per- 
formed in sl job, and for which he was paid by the estimate of its 
value, but that he performed it in eight hours, thus gaining both 



44 SELF-MADE MEN. 

time and money by double labor. Eight hours a day is his ordi- 
nary habit of labor at the forge." The same writer describes Mr. 
Burritt (1843) as a person of middle stature, rather slender pro- 
portions, high, receding forehead, deeply set, steady, grayish eye, 
thin visage, fair complexion, thin, compressed upper lip, a hectic 
glow, and hair bordering on the brown or auburn. There is 
nothing in his frame to indicate a habit of hard labor except the 
round shoulder, and an arm and hand disproportioned in size and 
muscle to the other parts of the body, and resulting, of course, 
from the practice of his trade. 

In 1844 Mr. Burritt commenced the publication of a news- 
paper called " The Christian Citizen," and from that time to 
the present has been best known for his advocacy of peace doc- 
trines, in connection with the "League of Universal Brother- 
hood." The earnestness with which he disseminates his views, 
and his enthusiasm on the subject of brotherhood have doubtless 
had their effect on the temper of the times. Mr. Burritt is also 
a strenuous advocate of an ocean penny postage. As the gifted 
advocate of these matters, he has visited Europe, and delivered 
animated and popular lectures in most of the principal cities. In 
the peace conferences of London, Paris, Brussels, and Frankfort 
he took a conspicuous part. In the publications of the League 
Mr. Burritt exercises his pen with eminent ability. His other 
literary productions include " Sparks from the Anvil," " A Voice 
from the Forge," and "Peace Papers for the People," besides 
some translations from the northern classics. 

Mr. Burritt furnishes a remarkable instance of what may be 
accomplished by perseverance in spite of the most unfavorable 
circumstances. A forge, of all places in the world, would seem 
the least favorable for the prosecution of studies demanding an 
unusual concentration of mind ; yet, by a contented exercise of 
the will, Mr. Burritt was deaf to the tumult which surrounded 
him, and was able to accomplish an amount of study which places 
him in the front rank of great scholars. The other phase of his 
character, in which he has manifested decided originality and phi- 
lanthropy, will be better appreciated when the beneficence of his 
efforts are reviewed by the historian. In every respect Mr. Bur- 
ritt is great and noble, and his name will descend to future gen- 
erations as a bright example of a self-made man. 



DE. ALEXANDEE MUEEAY. 

This eminent man was born in a little parish called MinnigafF, 
Scotland, on the 22d of October, 1775. His father deserves some 
fame, for at the time of Alexander's birth he was nearly seventy 
years of age ; a mature, but hale and hearty parent. He had been 
a shepherd all his life, and to the unrestrained and healthful free- 
dom of that ancient occupation may be ascribed the continued vig- 
or of his physical being to such an advanced period. 

To this patriarch Alexander was indebted for the rudiments 
of an education. A Catechism, with an alphabet in it, was the 
text-book used, and esteemed as a treasure of such price that it 
was never delivered into the hands of the pupil. "As it was 
too good a book for me to handle at all times," says the doctor, 
"it was generally locked up, and he, throughout the winter, 
drew the figures of the letters to me, in his written hand, on the 
board of an old wool-card, with the black end of an extinguished 
heather stem, or root snatched from the fire. I soon learned all 
the alphabet in this form, and became writer as well as reader." 
In a little while Alexander had mastered the Catechism and a 
book of Psalms. The family Bible was out of his reach, but he 
secured a loose copy of the holy book, and read it so attentively 
that he was able to astonish every one with the capacity of his 
memoiy and the extent of his research. 

Among the lowly it is at all times difficult to step beyond the 
narrow limits of their occupation. All Mr. Murray's sons were 
shepherds, and at the age of seven or eight Alexander became one 
as a matter of course. He was not destined to succeed, however, 
in this calling, and was often blamed by his father as lazy and 
useless. He was too much given to books, and writing on boards 
with charcoal, to pay particular attention to the flocks. He be- 
came a very remarkable peasant boy, and a very bad shepherd. 

His prospects in life were considered decidedly gloomy by his 
parents and brothers. But in May, 1784, an uncle came to the 
cottage, and, struck with the remarkable brightness of the youth, 
offered to take him to New Galloway for a short time, and put 



46 SELF-MADE MEN. 

him to school there. The advantages which might have accrued 
from this act of liberality were cut short by the ill health of Alex- 
ander. He was in the school but two months, when it became 
actually necessary that he should return home. Here he became 
once more a shepherd, with a literary turn for boards and charcoal 
pencils. Whenever by good fortune he obtained a sixpence, he 
disbursed it instantly on ballads and penny histories, with which 
his pockets and his head were constantly filled. These establish- 
ed his reputation as a prodigy in the neighborhood. " My fame," 
he says, " for reading and memory w.as loud, and several said that 
I was a living miracle." Serious elders of the Church, even, were 
astonished at his remarkable acquaintance with Holy Writ. 

In 1787 Alexander was able to greatly extend his course of 
reading. A friend loaned him a translation of " Josephus" and 
" Salmon's Geographical Grammar," works that he perused with 
such avidity that he remembered their contents to the end of his 
life. He was now twelve years of age, very clever at every thing 
except taking care of sheep, and, consequently, a source of very 
great perplexity to his parents. It was necessary that he should 
maintain himself; and, with this object in view, he became pri- 
vate teacher in the families of two neighboring farmers. For his 
labors in this new field of enterprise he received as compensation, 
for an entire winter, the magnificent sum of sixteen shillings ! 
With this sum he unsealed the sources of human knowledge. He 
procured an edition of the veritable Cocker, and studied arith- 
metic up to the rule of three ; he obtained other books,' and read 
them with a purpose. "My memory now," he says, " contained 
a very large mass of historical facts and ballad poetry, which I re- 
peated with pleasure to myself, and the astonished approbation of 
the peasants around me." 

Much to the delight of Alexander, circumstances permitted him 
once more to become a student at the school at Minnigaff to the 
extent of three days' attendance per week. He made the most 
of his opportunity, but it was a brief one, for in six weeks he had 
to look after his own living again — that is to say, to teach what 
he knew to the children of the neighboring farmers. 

In 1790 he again attended school for about three months and 
a half of the summer, and it was during this brief term that he 
conceived the ambitious idea of becoming a scholar. His first im- 
pulse he attributes to the curiosity awakened by perusing, in 



DR. ALEXANDER MURRAY. 47 

"Salmon's Geography" a transcript of the Lord's Prayer, trans- 
lated into a variety of living and dead languages. About the 
same time he resolved to fit himself, if possible, for the duties of 
a clerk. To make his studies contribute to both results was now 
his endeavor. During the few weeks he remained at school, he 
obtained a grammatical knowledge of the English language, and 
commenced the study of French. While pursuing the latter, his 
attention was directed to the Latin by the circumstance of a boy 
complaining that he had once been set to learn it. Young Alex- 
ander Murray thus describes the circumstance: "About the 15th 
of June, Kerr (one of his classmates) told me that he had once 
learned Latin for a fortnight, but had not liked it, and still had 
the Rudiments beside him. I said, ' Do lend me them ; I wish to 
see what the nouns and verbs are like, and whether they resem- 
ble our French.' He gave me the book.. I examined it for four 
or five days, and found that the nouns had changes on the last 
syllables, and looked very singular. I used to repeat a lesson 
from the French Rudiments every forenoon in school. On the 
morning of the midsummer fair of Newton Stewart I set out for 
school, and accidentally put into my pocket the Latin Grammar 
instead of the French Rudiments. On an ordinary day Mr. Cra- 
mond would have chid me for this ; but on that festive morning 
he was in excellent spirits, and very communicative. With great 
glee he replied, when I told him my mistake and showed him the 
Rudiments, ' Gad, Sandy, I shall try thee with Latin ;' and ac- 
cordingly read over to me no less than two of the declensions. It 
was his custom with me to permit me to get as long lessOns as I 
pleased, and never to fetter me by joining me to a class. There 
was at that time in the school a class of four boys advanced as 
far as the pronouns in Latin Grammar. They ridiculed my sep- 
arated condition. But before the vacation in August I had reach- 
ed the end of the Rudiments, knew a good deal more than they 
by reading at home the notes on the foot of each page, and was 
so greatly improved in French that I could read almost any French 
book at opening of it. I compared French and Latin, and riv- 
eted the words of both in my memory by this practice. When 
proceeding with the Latin verbs, I often sat in the school all mid- 
day, and pored on the first page of Robert Cooper's (another 
schoolmate) Greek Grammar, the only one I had ever seen. He 
was then reading Livy and learning Greek. By help of his book 



48 SELF-MADE MEN. 

I mastered the letters, but I saw the sense of the Latin rules in 
a very indistinct manner. Some boy lent me an old Corderius, 
and a friend made me a present of Eutropius. I got a common 
vocabulary from my companion Kerr. I read to my teacher a 
number of colloquies, and before the end of July was permitted 
to take lessons in Eutropius. There was a copy of Eutropius in 
the school that had a literal translation. I studied this last with 
great attention, and compared the English and Latin. When my 
lesson was prepared, I always made an excursion into the rest of 
every book ; and my books were not, like those of other school- 
boys, opened only in one place, and where the lesson lay." 

A boy of young Murray's tastes only needed to be placed on 
the right track. He would pursue it of his own enthusiasm. 
After leaving school he purchased an old copy of Ainsworth's 
Latin Dictionary, and "literally read it through," he says. His 
method of studying was remarkable, and was probably as dry as 
any that could be conceived by the mind of man. He studied the 
dictionary backward and forward, and took relaxation in the 
Grammar, in Caesar, or (by way of dissipation) in Ovid. During 
the following summer (1791) he continued this course ; and when 
he went to school again for another course of three months' in- 
struction, he was able to pass all the other scholars, and to read 
whatever came in his way in English, Latin, or Greek. In the 
latter languages he addressed Mr. Maitland, the clergyman of the 
parish, who, struck with the proficiency of the boy, extended to 
him the freedom of a small classical library, the contents of which 
Alexander Murray eagerly devoured. He arose from the repast 
with a fresh appetite, namely, for Hebrew. To appease this, he 
procured a copy of Robertson's Hebrew Grammar, and got through 
it in a month, notwithstanding its many intricacies ; next follow- 
ed a dictionary, which he subjugated in his usual way. Before 
the end of the summer he was able to read the Bible in Hebrew. 
Thus, in something less than eighteen months, he had mastered 
the principal difficulties of four languages, the French, Latin, 
Greek, and Hebrew, and had read several of the best authors in 
each. All this, too, in spite of innumerable and discouraging in- 
terruptions. 

The winter of 1791 he passed in teaching, and earned thirty- 
five or forty shillings, so that he was able to return to school 
for the last time in the summer of 1792, remaining three months 



DR. ALEXANDER MURRAY. 49 

and a half. The different periods of school attendance added 
together, says one of his biographers, make about thirteen months, 
scattered over a period of nearly eight years. From November, 
1792, till March of the following spring, he was once more em- 
ployed in teaching, at a salary of thirty shillings. During this 
time he prosecuted his studies vigorously, and made the ac- 
quaintance of an Anglo-Saxon alphabet, which was his intro- 
duction to the northern languages. He obtained also a treatise 
in Welsh, and, without dictionary or grammar, set about making 
it out. "I mused a good deal on the quotations of Scripture 
that abound in it," he says, "and got acquainted with many 
Welsh words and sentences. If I had a copy of the Bible in any 
language of which I knew the alphabet, I could make considera- 
ble progress in learning it, without grammar or dictionary. This 
is done by minute observation and comparison of words, termina- 
tions, and phrases." 

In the autumn of 1792 Murray's ambition took a new direc- 
tion. His imagination had become inflamed by reading the clas- 
sic poets and Milton, and he believed himself capable of writing 
an epic poem. After perpetrating several thousand lines, he had 
the good sense to feel and acknowledge that he was not yet fitted 
for the task, and the firmness, remarkable in a young poet, to 
commit his crude verses to the flames. Far more practical was 
his next literary effort, which consisted of a translation from the 
Latin of a series of lectures by a German professor. With this 
work under his arm, he repaired to Dumfries in 1794, but nei- 
ther of the two publishers in the place would undertake the risk 
of publication. He then prepared a small volume of poems in 
the Scottish dialect ; but Burns, to whom he showed them, advised 
him not to publish them. The object that young Murray had in 
view was to raise the means, in some way or other, of defraying 
his expenses at college. It was natural that he should feel down- 
hearted and dispirited at these reverses. 

To a very humble admirer Murray was indebted for his first 
step in the world. This was a peddler by the name of M'Harg, 
who knew Murray well, and who was in the habit of sounding 
his fame as a genius wherever he went. Among others to whom 
he spoke on the subject was Mr. James Kinnear, of Edinburgh, 
then a journeyman printer in the King's Printing-office. Mr. 
Kinnear, with a zeal in behalf of unfriended merit which does 

C 



50 SELF-MADE MEN. 

him infinite honor, immediately suggested that Murray should 
transmit an account of himself and some evidences of his attain- 
ments to Edinburgh, which he undertook to lay before some of 
the literary characters of that city. Murray was of course too 
happy to act on this suggestion, and the result exceeded his most 
sanguine expectations. The professors of the University were 
astonished at his attainments, and at once threw open their classes, 
and provided for his maintenance while attending them. Assist- 
ance he did not long need. In the city he found plenty of em- 
ployment for his pen, and good remuneration for the exercise of 
his acquirements. 

The struggles of this remarkable youth were now at an end. 
He remained in Edinburgh until 1806, having in the interval 
passed through the course of studies necessary to qualify him for 
the Scottish Church. His fondness for languages remained un- 
abated ; one by one he mastered the Oriental and northern lan- 
guages, and of the Ethiopic and Abyssinian dialects he had a 
more critical knowledge than any other European of his day. 
This circumstance led him to undertake a new edition of Bruce's 
Travels (1802), a work which at once placed him in the foremost 
rank of Oriental scholars. 

In 1806 he left Edinburgh to assume the duties of the pulpit, 
and for six years officiated as clergyman of the parish of Urr in 
Dumfriesshire. From this honored field of labor he was recalled 
to the University, to fill the professor's chair of Oriental languages. 
The degree of doctor of divinity was now conferred upon him, and 
he entered on the discharge of his duties with an ardor which led 
to the most untimely result. The preparation of his lectures, the 
supervision of philological works, the rendering of new translations, 
the prosecution of fresh studies, were undertaken and accomplished 
at the price of health. Dr. Murray could not be persuaded that 
he was sick and failing, nor indeed did he know it, until it was 
too late. He kept his bed for one day only, and died in the thir- 
ty-eighth year of his age, at a time when all that could gratify a 
scholar was within his grasp. He left behind him a reputation 
and an example which may be imitated by the hard-pressed and 
humble in this world. 







LIEUT. MATTHEW F. MAUEY. 

It seems to be the fate of the most ancient and honorable of 
professions to lag tardily in the rear of the spirit of the age. 
Agriculture and navigation have been peculiarly open to this 
charge, and it is only of late years that either has made any prog- 
ress indicating a high degree of philosophical observation. So far 
as this relates to navigation, the credit is almost entirely due to 
Lieut. Maury, a gentleman whose persevering efforts, continued 
through a course of years, have enabled him to furnish results 
which are of the highest importance to the marine of the world. 

Matthew F. Maury was born near Fredericksburg, Spottsylvania 
County, Virginia, on the 14th of January, 1806. He was the sev- 
enth of nine children. His parents were in humble circumstances, 
and Matthew's early years partook of the rough characteristics 
that are inseparable from the experience of the pioneer families 
of our country. When he was only four years of age his parents 
migrated to the State of Tennessee, then a wild, uncultivated re- 
gion, full of delightful scenery and hardy promise to the adven- 
turer. The Maury family established themselves near the little 



52 SELF-MADE MEN. 

village of Franklin, where, on the outskirts of civilization, young 
Maury grew up to the verge of manhood. Under such circum- 
stances, his educational advantages were necessarily slight, and 
wholly due to the exertions of a clergyman, the Eev. Mr. Otey, 
now bishop of a southern diocese. 

Young Maury's first and most enduring passion was for the sea, 
and when his parents found it was unconquerable, they wisely 
abandoned their opposition, and permitted him to follow it as a 
profession. He was nineteen years of age (1825) when he joined 
the United States Navy in the frigate Brandywine, then a new and 
splendid vessel, commissioned for the honorable duty of conveying 
General Lafayette from this country to France, and with orders 
to undertake a subsequent cruise in the Mediterranean. Maury 
was midshipman on board this ship-of-war, and soon became re- 
markable for the quiet skill and courage with which he discharged 
his duties, and the enthusiasm with which he applied himself to 
all that was theoretical or scientific in his profession. It is said 
that during the voyage across the Atlantic the Brandywine was 
overtaken by a severe storm. A scene of general excitement pre- 
vailed on board ; but in the midst of the fury of the elements and 
the vociferous bustle of his companions, Maury was discovered 
quietly working away at a nautical problem, and entirely uncon- 
scious of aught else. 

After carrying out her instructions in the Mediterranean the 
Brandywine was ordered home, to be placed under the broad 
pennant of Commodore Jones. Maury returned with her, and 
was retained in active service under the new commander. The 
frigate soon sailed for the Pacific. The little midshipman was 
still bent on his nautical studies. Some curious stories of his de- 
votion, says Mr. Augustus Maverick, to whom we are largely in- 
debted, are rife among the seamen -who knew Maury at this time. 
It was one of his rules, to which he adhered inflexibly, that he 
would never allow himself to be idle, but, on duty or off, keep his 
mind actively employed in some way or other. A man-of-war is 
not the best place in the world for the indulgence of contemplative 
ways, or for the prosecution of studies demanding much thought 
and some practical demonstration. The only chance he had of 
being perfectly quiet and unmolested was while he was on watch. 
It became now a question how to use this time to the most ad- 
vantage. He hit upon a plan which drove the old gunner of the 



LIEUT. MATTHEW F. MAURY. 53 

frigate to the verge of despair. It was this. He provided him- 
self with a bit of chalk, and quietly drew on the cannon balls the 
problem he wanted to work out. Then pacing backward and for- 
ward with his mind intent on it, he added figure to figure until 
the demonstration was complete. In this way he learned with 
rapidity, and laid the foundation of his future fame. The old gun- 
ner often raved at the troublesome " middy," who covered his shot 
with chalk-marks ; but it was not held to be a heinous crime, and 
no hindrance followed. Two and a half years passed away in 
this manner, the young student applying himself closely, and 
gaining experience and wisdom with years. At the end of this 
period, while still cruising in the Pacific, he was, at his own re- 
quest, transferred to the U. S. sloop-of-war Vincennes, then under 
orders for the East Indies. 

This was Mr. Maury's third cruise ; it proved of immense serv- 
ice to him. It enlarged his field of observation, and enabled him 
so far to verify his theories of navigation that he felt justified, 
upon his return home, in putting to press a volume comprising 
the results of the investigations he had already undertaken. The 
entire volume was written on shipboard. 

The Vincennes arrived at New York in the summer of 1830, 
after an absence of four years. During the period of his service 
on board Mr. Maury had found time to visit the South Sea Isl- 
ands, China, the Cape of Good Hope, St. Helena, and other points 
of interest, omitting no opportunity of adding to his stock of in- 
formation. A fourth cruise was undertaken soon after the return 
of the Vincennes, and again Mr. Maury found himself in the Pa- 
cific Ocean, attached as acting master to the sloop-of-war Fal- 
mouth. Having been examined for promotion before leaving port, 
his qualifications as an officer were admitted and subsequently 
fully proved during his term of service on board this vessel. Pro- 
motion speedily followed. The appointment of acting lieutenant 
of the Falmouth was tendered to and accepted by him, and he con- 
tinued to fill this post until transferred by Commodore Downes 
to the Dolphin, in the Pacific, two and a half years later. Of the 
Dolphin, Mr. Maury was made first lieutenant. The commodore 
presently transferred him to the flag-ship Potomac, on board of 
which he served as acting lieutenant until her return to the 
United States. This cruise occupied three and a half years. The 
opportunities it afforded Mr. Maury he was not slow in embrac- 



54 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ing. A mass of marine statistics was collected which afterward 
proved of signal service to him, and the compilation of a series 
of nautical tables occupied with profit a considerable period. The 
journals of experienced navigators whom he met in the Pacific 
were carefully examined and compared, and facts deduced from 
these sources of information and his own observations took the 
form of a record of reliable results. Mr. Maury's knowledge of 
astronomical science also led him to a series of investigations in 
that department of research, with a view to correct the prevailing 
methods of observing solar, lunar, and stellar distances. He con- 
trived an instrument which was calculated to give the true meas- 
urement of distance, and completed a model of it, but, on applying 
to the Board of Navy Commissioners for assistance in carrying 
out the experiment, was repulsed. His own resources being in- 
adequate to meet the necessary expenditure, the project failed, and 
the instrument never saw the light. 

In the year 1836, when thirty years of age, Mr. Maury received 
his full commission as lieutenant in the navy. The appointment 
of astronomer and assistant hydrographer of the United States 
Exploring Expedition was soon afterward tendered to him, and 
was at first accepted, but subsequently declined. About this pe- 
riod Lieutenant Maury became interested in literary pursuits. 
An interesting and valuable essay on the Navigation of the Pa- 
cific and the Doubling of Cape Horn appeared from his pen in 
the pages of Sillimari 's Journal ; and an article published soon after, 
on the interests of Southern Commerce, attracted attention. In 
this latter production Mr. Maury displayed accurate knowledge 
of mercantile regulations and observances, and, by means of an 
elaborate array of statistical facts, demonstrated the means whicli 
were to impart to the port of New York its commercial suprem- 
acy. He showed that the wealth of that great city lay chiefly in 
her lines of packets, which, by bringing her into active connection 
and competition with the commercial emporiums of other nations, 
insured at once her rapid growth, and a financial standing second 
to no other city. Taking this stand-point as representative of the 
argument he wished to enforce, Mr. Maury proceeded to discuss 
with great elaboration the commercial advantages of the South, 
which was the material point of his article. Mr. Maury's sym- 
pathies have generally been with the South in all its enterprises, 
and he has striven with voice and pen to encourage the interests 



LIEUT. MATTHEW F. MAURY. 55 

and develop the resources of that section of the Union. This ap- 
parent partiality has called down a measure of condemnation upon 
Mr. Maury, but his convictions have been honest, sincere, and are 
still earnestly pressed when opportunity offers. In his writings 
upon these subjects Mr. Maury has given expression to his belief 
that the energies of the southern portion of the United States, if 
directed with enterprise, prudence, and skill, are competent to ri- 
val the business capacities of the North ; and while he has not fail- 
ed to press the advantages of the South upon the people of that 
district of the country, he has not forgotten to preserve through- 
out a tone of courtesy and consideration that has added a fresh 
charm to the native grace and polish of his diction. For a num- 
ber of years, down to the present moment, the question of the de- 
velopment of southern interests has been a favorite one with him, 
a marked share of his attentions having been devoted to that 
branch of commerce which contemplates the establishment of a 
permanent and speedy means of communication between the 
South and the principal ports of Europe. 

Turning for a time from literary avocations, Mr. Maury was 
again in active naval service until the early part of 1839. He 
was assigned the command of a government survey steamer, 
and Avas detailed to prosecute investigations along the southern 
coast. The sickly season approaching, this labor was suspended. 
Being comparatively free, Mr. Maury determined to avail himself 
of the opportunity to visit his aged parents, still residing in Ten- 
nessee. 

This journey was destined to affect the entire course of his life 
in a melancholy way. The stage-coach in which he was travel- 
ing through Ohio met with an accident and was overturned. 
Among the passengers who received serious injuries was Mr. Mau- 
ry. His knee was fractured, and he became a cripple for several 
months ; indeed, it was nearly three years before he could dis- 
pense with the use of crutches. The injury was a permanent 
one, and sufficient to disable him for active service in his pro- 
fession. 

The resources of a man of thought and study are never entirely 
dependent on a single accident of life. To be torn from a pro- 
fession which he loved so fervently was in the highest degree un- 
happy, but, by directing his thoughts into a new channel, it opened 
the path to a greatness which probably could not have been accom- 



56 SELF-MADE MEN. 

plished amid the hardships and turmoil of a sailor's life. No man 
in the country knew more of maritime subjects than Mr. Maury. 
He determined to use this knowledge for the benefit of the public ; 
to work out his experience and observations with the pen and the 
press. ^ 

His first attempt was to effect a reform in the navy of the 
United States, by pointing out the evils of which he had been an 
attentive observer. A series of articles published in the Southern 
Literary Messenger drew public attention to the defects of the serv- 
ice, and the facts which Mr. Maury adduced as occurring under 
his own observation led to an animated warfare on paper. We 
have not space to recapitulate the arguments which were employed 
in the course of this controversy ; it is sufficient to know that the 
attacks of Mr. Maury upon naval abuses have not been unattended 
by useful results. The title he gave them was the unique one of 
" Scraps from the Lucky Bag." 

The peculiar channel into which Mr. Maury's thoughts have 
been almost exclusively directed of late years was suggested to 
him as long since as the year 1831. While going out in the ca- 
pacity of sailing-master on his cruise of that year, he was struck 
with the fact that all information concerning the routes from the 
United States to Cape Horn was derived chiefly from tradition, 
sailors having their individual theories, and captains conglomer- 
ating the scraps of nautical wisdom which years of experience at 
sea had developed. Mr. Maury saw in this a field for the display 
of his peculiar characteristics. His observations upon the tides 
and currents of the ocean had already suggested to his mind the 
expediency of preparing a series of instructions for navigators ; 
and the manifest ignorance on these subjects which prevailed at 
the time, even among seamen the most celebrated for their skill, 
led him to put his thoughts in shape for the benefit of the service. 
The "Wind and Current Charts" were the result of this resolu- 
tion. Beginning at once, he presently brought his scheme into 
useful activity. He commenced by collecting from all practicable 
sources the log-books of vessels which had accomplished the pas- 
sage around Cape Horn. The preparation of a series of charts 
was the object of a labored and minute comparison of results. 
This work is yet in progress (1858), and, when completed, will no 
doubt contribute largely to the high fame of the author. 

In the year 1812 Mr. Maury was placed in charge of the hydro- 



LIEUT. MATTHEW F. MAURY. 57 

graphical department of the American Navy, and was furnished 
with a great amount of valuable data taken from the old log-books 
of the government vessels. No one can apply such material to 
better purpose. In 1844 he became the superintendent of the Na- 
tional Observatory at Washington, and holds that office at the pres- 
ent time. He has not been slow to improve his opportunities. 
From time to time new charts have been issued, and, under instruc- 
tions from this department, officers of the naval and merchant serv- 
ice regularly transmit to the Observatory the log of each of their 
outward and inward voyages. The publication of the " Wind 
and Current Charts" is now sanctioned by the American govern- 
ment, and new editions of Mr. Maury's " Instructions to Naviga- 
tors" are issued at short intervals, embodying the latest results 
of the investigations which he is always actively prosecuting. 

The practical utility of Mr. Maury's system having been fully 
established in Europe, a maritime conference was, at Mr. Maury's 
suggestion, held at Brussels in 1853, for the purpose of devising 
a uniform series of meteorological observations at sea. At this 
conference formulae were prepared, which are now generally used 
by vessels under all flags. 

A kindred subject to which Mr. Maury's attention has been 
directed is the establishment of a series of deep-sea soundings. 
Growing out of this subject, he has given to the world one of its 
most remarkable books, "The Physical Geography of the Sea." 
Mr. Maury claims to have demonstrated the much-talked-of sub- 
Atlantic Plateau, which is said to be available for the use of a 
trans-Atlantic telegraph. This position has not been allowed to 
pass without incurring severe criticism. Mr. Maury contends for 
the existence of an elevation or ridge at the bottom of the Atlan- 
tic, extending from the shore of Newfoundland to the coast of 
Ireland, and maintains, of course, the practicability of the same for 
the purposes mentioned. 

Mr. Maury has led and still leads an active life. His leisure 
moments have been devoted to the popular exposition of science 
in the lecture-room. As a lecturer, he possesses every requisite 
to enchain an audience, and a rare faculty of imparting informa- 
tion in a ready and communicative way. He is looked upon 
with respect and admiration by a larger public than most scien- 
tific men can call their own, especially on a speciality such as 
that which Mr. Maury has made his peculiar study. Foreign 

C 2 



58 SELF-MADE MEN. 

governments have acknowledged the value and importance of his 
contributions to nautical science, but, in conformity with the reg- 
ulations of the navy, which forbid the officers of the service to ac- 
cept complimentary awards from other powers, Mr. Maury has 
declined all offers of the kind. The last tender was a knighthood 
offered by the King of Denmark, with expressions of the most 
flattering regard. This honor, like its predecessors, was declined, 
and Mr. Maury yet continues a simple lieutenant in the Ameri- 
can Navy, debarred by his physical incapacity from active service, 
but occupying, with undiminished honor and usefulness, his post 
as the superintendent of the National Observatory. 



CHKISTIAN GOTTLOB HEYNE. 

Men of great learning are common to all ages, the thirst for 
knowledge being insatiable. The few who rise to pre-eminence 
have this fact to contend with, and, ere they can rise to distinc- 
tion, have to pass a critical ordeal which can not be over-esti- 
mated. An author by an inward gift reaches the goal at once, 
like Burns. All the learning he needs, if he have genius, is that 
which teaches him to express his thoughts in the most fluent and 
natural way. A scholar, however, needs the patient talent to be- 
come learned, and when he has achieved this, he must possess force 
to carry him past the great learning of his greatest contempora- 
ries, or he gains but a share of their general reputation. One 
who did this was Christian Gottlob Heyne, the greatest classical 
scholar of his age. Mr. Heyne was the son of a poor linen- weaver 
of Silesia, a district long and chronically affected with poverty. 
He was born at Chemnitz, in Saxony, on the 25 th of September, 
1729, in the midst of the saddest indigence. A large family were 
dependent on the exertions of the father, and, in spite of his ex- 
ertions, often needed food. Want was the earliest companion of 
his childhood. " I well remember," he says, in the Memoirs of 
his own Life, " the painful impression made on my mind by wit- 
nessing the distress of my mother when without food for her chil- 
dren. How often have I seen her on a Saturday evening weeping 
and wringing her hands, as she returned home from an unsuccess- 
ful effort to sell the goods which the daily and nightly toil of my 
father had manufactured." 

Notwithstanding this lowly condition, young Christian was sent 
to school, and with unusual rapidity acquired the little learning 
within his reach. Before his tenth year he had made himself 
master of all that could be taught, and was able to pay a portion 
of his school-fees in teaching younger members of the seminary. 
He displayed his passion for the classics at this time by a craving 
desire to learn Latin, and made an arrangement with the school- 
master's son, who had studied at Leipsic, to do so, at the rate of 
fburpence a week. This enormous remuneration was the subject 



GO SELF-MADE MEN. 

of much agitation to him. At first it seemed an impossible sum 
to raise, and he almost gave up in despair. One day he was sent 
to procure a loaf of bread from his godfather, who was a baker. 
As he trudged along, he thought sadly of the great project, and 
he wept at the disappointment which seemed inevitable. The 
baker was a good-tempered man, and he was quite affected by the 
tears of the boy. He inquired the cause of his distress, and when 
poor little Heyne sobbed out that it was because he could not af- 
ford fourpence a week to take lessons in Latin, his godfather pat- 
ted him on the head, and made him glad and happy by promising 
to defray the ruinous fee. Heyne tells us that he was perfectly 
intoxicated with joy ; and as he ran, all ragged and barefoot, 
through the streets, tossing the loaf in the air, it slipped from his 
hands and rolled into the gutter. This accident was attended 
with a sharp reprimand at home, and brought the young enthu- 
siast to his senses. He immediately commenced taking lessons, 
however, and in less than two years had completely exhausted the 
classic resources of his instructor. 

It seemed probable at this time that Heyne must abandon 
his studies for the more irksome duties of the world. His fa- 
ther had already made arrangements for placing him at a trade, 
when, fortunately, another godfather of the boy, a clergyman, 
agreed to bear the expense of continuing his education at the 
principal seminary of his native town of Chemnitz. His new pa- 
tron, although a plethoric churchman, was decidedly stingy, and 
doled out his bounty with such an unwilling hand, that Heyne 
was frequently put to great straits to obtain the necessary books 
for study. After a little while, however, he obtained the situa- 
tion of private tutor in the family of a citizen, and the stipend he 
received for this addition to his labors enabled him to become less 
dependent on his godfather. 

Heyne was determined to continue his studies at the Universi- 
ty, and for this purpose resolved to go to Leipsic. He arrived in 
that city of learning and literature, having his whole fortune, con- 
sisting of two florins, in his waistcoat pocket, and nothing else to 
depend upon except the small assistance he might receive from 
his godfather, who had reluctantly promised to continue his boun- 
ty. He had to wait so long, however, for his expected supplies 
from this source, which were accompanied with much grudging 
and reproach when they did make their appearance, that, desti- 



CHRISTIAN GOTTLOB HEYNK. 61 

tute of both money and books, he would even have been without 
bread too, had it not been for the compassion of the maid-servant 
of the house where he lodged. What sustained his courage in 
these circumstances was neither ambition nor presumption, nor 
even the hope of one day taking his place among the learned. 
The stimulus that incessantly spurred him on was the feeling of 
the humiliation of his condition ; the shame with which he shrank 
from the thought of that degradation which the want of a good 
education would impose upon him ; above all, the determined res- 
olution of battling courageously with Fortune. He was resolved 
to try, he said, whether, although she had thrown him among the 
dust, he should not be able to rise up by his own efforts. With 
an ambition so worthy, the difficulties that sprung up in his path 
were unheeded, or served but to increase his natural ardor and 
determination. The unremitting application to study which char- 
acterized his life at this epoch may be judged from the fact that 
for six months he only allowed himself two nights' sleep in the 
week ; yet, while he was bending all energies to the great pur- 
pose of his life, he received nothing but reproaches from his god- 
father, who often directed his letters to " Mr, Heyne, Idler, at 
Leip8ic" 

While at Leipsic he had an opportunity to escape the intoler- 
able and oppressive poverty of his position. A situation was of- 
fered him as private tutor in a family in Magdeburg. It was in 
every way an enviable offer, but its acceptance involved one im- 
mense sacrifice : he must leave Leipsic and abandon his studies. 
He soon determined not to do so, and decided in favor of pover- 
ty and Leipsic. It was a noble self-sacrifice, and met with its 
reward. In a few weeks he obtained a situation, similar to the 
one he had refused, in the University town. For a time he en- 
joyed comparative prosperity, and studied and labored without 
his most-time companion, Want. But he worked too hard, and 
brought on a dangerous illness. He had to resign his situation, 
and what little funds he had were scattered in doctors' potions 
and nurses' fees. When he recovered he found himself poor, and 
destitute, and weak, with few friends, and no influence to thrust 
him forward in the world. There is a Divine eye which never 
sleeps on the deserving. A copy of Latin verses which Heyne 
had written accidentally fell into the hands of one of the minis- 
ters of the court of Saxony, who advised the author to repair to 



62 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the court at Dresden. The advice, coming from a minister in 
power, was considered highly promising, and almost certain to 
lead to fortune. Heyne borrowed a small sum to defray his ex- 
penses, and started for the land of promise. Arrived at Dresden, 
he made the most of his introduction, but soon discovered that 
ministers' promises were not to be relied on. He received a few 
unproductive compliments, and was graciously permitted to starve. 
He subsisted on his books as long as they lasted, and was then 
obliged to accept the place of copyist in the library of the Count 
de Bruhl, at the miserable annual salary of eighty dollars ; a sum 
which, even in that cheap country, was scarcely sufficient to keep 
him from perishing of hunger. After he had held this situation 
for above two years, his salary was doubled ; but, before he de- 
rived any benefit from the augmentation, the Seven Years' War 
had commenced. Saxony was overrun with the forces of Fred- 
erick the Great, and Heyne's place, and the library itself, to which 
it was attached, were swept away at the same time. He was 
obliged to fly from Dresden, and wandered about for a long time 
without any employment. At last he was received into a family 
at Wittenberg ; but in a short time the progress of the war drove 
him from this asylum also, and he returned to Dresden, where 
he still had a few articles of furniture, purchased with the little 
money saved while he held his place in the library. He arrived 
just in time to witness the bombardment of that capital, in the 
conflagration of which his furniture perished, as well as some prop- 
erty which he had brought with him from Wittenberg, belonging 
to a lady, one of the family in whose house he lived, and for 
whom he had formed an attachment during his residence there. 
Two young people were thus thrown on the world without a dol- 
lar to save them from want. At a moment so critical, they de- 
termined to unite their fortunes, on the Irish principle which ad- 
vises that, when you are very poor, the best thing you can do is to 
marry. They were married, and, by the exertions of some com- 
mon friends, a retreat was procured for Heyne and his wife in the 
establishment of a M. de Leoben, where he spent some years, dur- 
ing which time he was principally occupied in the management of 
that gentleman's property. 

When peace was declared (1763) Heyne returned to Dresden. 
His hard fortunes were soon to be brought to an end. During 
his absence, the Professorship of Eloquence in the University of 



CHRISTIAN GOTTLOB IIEYNK. 63 

Gottingen had become vacant by the death of John Mathias Ges- 
ner. Heyne was proposed for the chair by Ruhnken, a Greek 
critic of distinction, and a man who knew thoroughly the value 
of Heyne's acquirements. He received the appointment (1763), 
and held the professorship until the day of his death, which hap- 
pened by apoplexy in 1812. No man living ever threw a bright- 
er lustre on an institution of learning than Heyne on the Univer- 
sity of Gottingen. He maintained its reputation with his pen and 
with his eloquence. The department to which he specially ap- 
plied himself was the critical interpretation of classic literature 
and the illustration of the writing of the ancients, by showing how 
they ought to be studied with reference to the manners and char- 
acters of their respective ages. Heyne published his views on 
these subjects in his notes to the " Bibliotheca" of Apollodorus, 
and afterward in the " Transactions" of the University. He has 
many disciples of great eminence. 

Heyne was an extremely industrious man, and edited a great 
variety of classic works, all of which are extremely valuable for 
the erudition and just criticism displayed in the notes and com- 
mentaries. An interesting and lengthy memoir of the early life 
of this celebrated man has been written by his son-in-law. 




ROBERT BURNS. 

Robert Burns, the pride of Scotland, and one of the most ex- 
traordinary poets the world has ever produced, was born in a 
rickety little hovel on the banks of the Doon, near Ayr, Scotland, 
on the 25th of January, 1759. His father was a man of superior 
abilities, of marked piety, and of some acquaintance with litera- 
ture. His skill, however, did not extend to architecture, for the 
building in which they lived, erected by his hands, tumbled down 
two or three days after Robert was born. The mother and child 
were conveyed, through a fierce snow-storm, to a neighbor's cot- 
tage. Burns, in after-life, described his mother as " a very saga- 
cious woman, without forwardness or awkwardness of manner." 
Unlike most men of eminence, he owed more to his father than 
his mother in the elements of his character. Especially did he 
inherit "the headlong, ungovernable irascibility and ungainly in- 
tegrity" of Mr. Burns. 

When about six years of age, the poet and his family removed 
to the parish of Ayr, hoping that they would be able to improve 
their circumstances by the change. But the new farm was no less 



ROBERT BURNS. 05 

sterile than the old one. After struggling with the most destitute 
circumstances until 1772, Mr. Burns and his family were driven 
from the place, and found refuge at Lochlea. Better times await- 
ed them here, and for a while things went on prosperously. Mr. 
Bums's two sons, Gilbert and Robert, were sent to school. The 
schoolmaster thus describes his pupils at this time : " Gilbert," he 
says, " always appeared to me to possess a more lively imagina- 
tion, and to be more the wit than Robert. 1 attempted to teach 
them a little church music : here they were left far behind by all 
the rest of the school. Robert's ear, in particular, was remark- 
ably dull, and his voice untunable. It was long before I could 
get them to distinguish one tune from another. Robert's counte- 
nance was generally grave, and expressive of a serious, contem- 
plative, and thoughtful mind. Gilbert's face said, 'Mirth, with 
thee I mean to live ;' and certainly, if any person who knew the 
two boys had been asked which of them was the most likely to 
court the Muses, he would never have guessed that Robert had a 
propensity of that kind." The worthy schoolmaster entertained 
the popular idea that a man of a literary turn of mind ought to 
look books and speak books from his earliest infancy. 

At the grammar-school of Ayr Robert and his brother studied 
" week about," and in the winter evenings their father gave them 
what instruction he had at his disposal. Both boys assisted on 
the farm, and Robert describes himself as a dexterous plowman. 
The most rigid economy had to be exercised in the little home- 
stead. Butcher's meat was unknown at the table, and all the 
members of the family exerted themselves to the utmost of their 
strength, and sometimes a little beyond it, in the labors of the 
farm. There were an aged couple and seven children to be sup- 
ported off its ungenerous soil. 

Robert studied easily, and read with avidity all the books that 
came within his reach. " In my seventeenth year," says Burns, 
" to give my manners a brush, I went to a country dancing-school. 
My father had an unaccountable antipathy against these meetings, 
and my going was, what to this moment I repent, in opposition to 
his wishes. My father was subject to strong passions. From 
that instance of disobedience in me he took a sort of dislike to 
me, which I believe was one cause of the dissipation which mark- 
ed my succeeding years. I say dissipation, comparatively with 
the strictness, and sobriety, and regularity of Presbyterian coun- 



Q6 SELF-MADE MEN. 

try life ; for, though the will-o'-wisp meteors of thoughtless whim 
were almost the sole lights of my path, yet early ingrained piety 
and virtue kept me for several years afterward within the line of 
innocence. The great misfortune of my life was to want an aim. 
I saw my father's situation entailed on me perpetual labor. The 
only two openings by which I could enter the temple of Fortune 
were the gates of niggardly economy, or the path of little chican- 
ing bargain-making. The first is so contracted an aperture I 
could never squeeze myself into it. The last I always hated — 
there was contamination in the very entrance ! Thus, abandoned 
of aim or view in life, with a strong appetite for sociability, as 
well from native hilarity as from a pride of observation and re- 
mark ; a constitutional melancholy or hypochondriacism that made 
me fly solitude ; add to these incentives to social life my reputa- 
tion for bookish knowledge, a certain wild logical talent, and a 
strength of thought something like the rudiments of good sense, 
and it will not seem surprising that I was generally a welcome 
guest where I visited, or any great wonder that always, where 
two or three met together, there was I among them. But far be- 
yond all other impulses of my heart was un penchant pour V ado- 
rable moitie du genre humain. My heart was completely tinder, and 
was eternally lighted up by some goddess or other; and, as in 
every other warfare in the world, my fortune was various : some- 
times I was received with favor, and sometimes I was mortified 
with a repulse. At the plow, scythe, or reap-hook I feared no 
competitor, and thus I set absolute want at defiance ; and as I 
never cared farther for my labors than while I was in actual ex- 
ercise, I spent the evenings in the way after my own heart. A 
country lad seldom carries on a love adventure without an assist- 
ing confidant. I possessed a curiosity, zeal, and intrepid dexter- 
ity that recommended me as a proper second on these occasions, 
and I dare say I felt as much pleasure in being in the secret of 
half the loves of the parish of Tarbolton as ever did statesman in 
knowing the intrigues of half the courts of Europe." 

When in his nineteenth year Burns spent some months in learn- 
ing mensuration and surveying at a school at Kirkoswald, with the 
object of following the profession of land surveyor. The society 
in which he found himself was not calculated to improve the tend- 
ency of his mind to dissipation. The smugglers of the neighbor- 
hood found a boon companion, and Burns, as he expressed himself, 



ROBERT BURNS. 67 

observed "a new phase of life." He found time, however, to pur- 
sue his study of English literature, and to commence a literary 
correspondence with some of his schoolfellows. In this manner 
his life glided away until he had reached his twenty-third year. 
He had already composed one or two poetical pieces, occasioned 
by some circumstance of local importanec Now he began to feel 
a necessity for verse. His passions, which were always strong, 
raged furiously until they found vent in rhyme. 

In 1781 Burns went to Irvine to learn the trade of a flax- 
dresser. A fire broke out in the shop, and destroyed every thing, 
including Burns' s little all. This event put an end to a matri- 
monial engagement into which the poet had entered, and exercised 
a depressing influence on his mind. His visit to Irvine was in 
other respects unfortunate. It threw him into the society of men 
who did not scruple to applaud the budding viciousness of the 
young man. His father died at a time when he could be least 
spared, and Burns, with very wild and uncertain ideas, repaired 
to the farm at Mossgiel, to assume, with his brother Gilbert, its 
cultivation. The fame he acquired in the neighborhood about 
this time, was due to his poetic achievements rather than those 
of agriculture. Some additional notoriety was obtained in a less 
creditable way, arising from the laxity of morals which resulted 
from his sojourn at Irvine. The bad odor in which he found him- 
self suggested to his mind the advisability of leaving the country. 
He had for some time expressed a desire to go to the West Indies, 
and would undoubtedly have taken his departure if the state of hin 
finances had allowed him to do so. In this dilemma he resolved 
to try his luck with a volume of poems. His friends encouraged 
the idea, and a number of subscribers were readily obtained. In a 
letter to one of his friends, dated the 12th of June, 1786, he says: 
"You will have heard that I am going to commence a poet in 
print, and to-morrow my works go to press. I expect it will be 
a volume of about two hundred pages. It is just the last foolish 
action I intend to do, and then turn a wise man as fast as possible.'''' 
The poet also describes his feelings in another place. "Before 
leaving my native land, I resolved to publish my poems. I weighed 
my productions as impartially as was in my power : I thought they 
had merit ; and it was a delicious idea that I should be called a 
clever fellow, even though it should never reach my ears, a poor 
negro-driver, or perhaps a victim to that inhospitable clime, and 



68 SELF-MADE MEN. 

gone to the world of spirits. I can truly say that, pauvre inconnu 
as I then was, I had pretty nearly as high an idea of myself and 
of my works as I have at this moment, when the public has decided 
in their favor. It ever was my opinion that the mistakes and 
blunders, both in a rational and religious point of view, of which 
we see thousands daily guilty, are owing to their ignorance of 
themselves. To know myself had been all along my constant 
study. I weighed myself alone ; I balanced myself with others : 
I watched every means of information, to see how much ground I 
occupied as a man and as a poet ; I studied assiduously Nature's 
design in my formation — where the lights and shades in character 
were intended. I was pretty confident my poems would meet with 
some applause ; but, at the worst, the roar of the Atlantic would 
deafen the voice of censure, and the novelty of West Indian scenes 
make me forget neglect. I threw oif six hundred copies, for which 
I got a subscription for about three hundred and fifty. My vanity 
was highly gratified by the reception I met with from the public ; 
and besides, I pocketed, all expenses deducted, nearly twenty 
pounds. This sum came very seasonably, as I was thinking of 
indenting myself, for want of money to procure my passage. As 
soon as I was master of nine guineas, the price of wafting me to 
the torrid zone, I took a steerage passage in the first ship that 
was to sail from the Clyde ; for 

" ' Hungry ruin had me in the wind.' 

I had been for some days skulking from covert to covert, under 
all the terrors of a jail, as some ill-advised people had uncoupled 
the merciless pack of the law at my heels. I had taken the last 
farewell of my few friends ; my chest was on the way to Greenock ; 
I had composed the last song I should ever measure in Caledonia, 
' The gloomy night is gathering fast,' when a letter from Dr. 
Blacklock to a friend of mine overthrew all my schemes by open- 
ing new prospects to my poetic ambition." 

The history of literature does not afford another instance of 
such extraordinary popularity as was obtained by Burns imme- 
diately on the appearance of this volume. All thoughts of .the 
West Indies were immediately abandoned in the necessary prep- 
arations for a second edition. This, on its appearance, had an 
enormous sale, and realized quite a little fortune to the author. 
It was read extensively by all classes of the community, and was 



ROBERT BUKNS. 69 

as heartily commended by the learned as by the illiterate. In 
Edinburgh he was received in the most enthusiastic manner by 
persons of eminence in the social and literary worlds. He passed 
at one step from the cottage to the palace. The peasant-boy be- 
came the associate of noblemen, and the "lion" of the fashionable 
world. 

The profits arising from this second edition of his works amount- 
ed to upward of £500. After assisting his brother with £200 to 
get him out of some difficulties, he bade farewell to the Scottish 
capital, the brilliant society of which did not agree with his rude 
notions of jollity, and took a series of tours through Scotland as 
a professed "rustic bard" and man of genius, writing diaries and 
letters, scratching impromptu verses on the windows of inns and 
taverns, and inditing passionate love-strains to ladies and damsels 
of every degree with whom he had the slightest possible acquaint- 
ance. After spending three months in this erratic way, he mar- 
ried Jean Armour, a peasant-girl whom he had wronged, and 
leased a farm on the banks of the Nith, near Dumfries, with the 
intention of once more following agriculture as a profession. 

In August, 1789, he entered the excise, with the object of eking 
out an insufficient income. It was an unfortunate step, for he, 
of all men, was least able to resist temptation. The farm was 
more and more neglected. At last he relinquished it altogether, 
and became a regular exciseman, with an income of £70 per year. 
To this profession he remained faithful for about five years, re- 
siding in Dumfries until the time of his death, which happened 
on the 21st of July, 1796. He was never in actual want, but his 
circumstances were often of the narrowest, arising in a great 
measure from his extravagance, and unpardonable habits of dissi- 
pation. Subscriptions were entered into for the benefit of Burns' s 
widow, and for the erection of monuments in various localities to 
the poet's memory. 

The life of Robert Burns does not furnish an example, but a 
warning. A man of the most unquestionable genius, he lived 
and died in an obscurity which might, without doubt, have been 
averted, if his habits and inclinations had been different to what 
they were. By study and patient effort he succeeded in raising 
himself far above the station in which nature had placed him. 
He asserted to the world, and the world recognized, his genius. 
Without waiting wearisome years for the tardy verdict of the 



70 SELF-MADE MEN. 

public, it was pronounced instantly, and in his favor. In a few 
months he became the idol of a large community. Men of vast 
acquirements in the realms of knowledge, and men of rank, 
wealth, and refinement, instantly recognized him as an equal, and 
even more than an equal. He went among them for a short 
time, but confirmed habits of inebriety and coarse enjoyment ren- 
dered him incapable of appreciating their society. Conscious of 
his weaknesses, although unable to combat them, he became sus- 
picious of courtesy, and willfully stubborn. Dragged down to the 
lowest level of his boon companions, he forgot the respect that 
was due to himself and to the genius with which God had in- 
trusted him. He fancied that every one saw his defects, and, in 
consequence, became irritable, imagining that it was poverty that 
gave him irritation, and not viciousness. He hated patronage 
with a manliness that was worthy of all admiration, but he blun- 
dered constantly in always imagining that kindness and appreci- 
ation were intended as patronage. Incensed with these mistaken 
ideas, he plunged once more into idle dissipation — into the society 
of men who revered him, perhaps, but who were incapable of es- 
timating his real worth. Thrust back into the sorry habits of 
his old life, he lost his opportunity, and squandered his best days 
in an unheroic struggle with poverty. Had he pursued a different 
policy he would have lived in affluent ease, and produced works 
worthy of the extraordinary genius he possessed. 



GEOKGE FOX. 

A remarkable man, thoroughly antagonistic to the age in 
which he lived, and bestowing on it an enduring virtue, was 
George Fox, founder of the society of Friends, commonly called 
the "Quakers." He was the son of a weaver, and first saw the 
light (July, 1624) in the town of Drayton, Leicestershire, England, 
where his father was widely known and respected for his upright- 
ness and integrity. These traits were so willingly recognized 
that he was known in the neighborhood as "righteous Christer." 
His mother was a woman of unusual intelligence, simple and pious 
in her habits, and tenderly good in all her actions. 

The paternal Fox was a man well read in the Scriptures, and 
delighted to instill into the youthful mind of his son the truths of 
revealed religion. Under this pious instructor, the lad grew up 
in physical and moral strength. Of regular education he had but 
little — not more than could be readily obtained at the adjacent 
schools — nor in after-life did he display any eager thirst for knowl- 
edge. Of a remarkably vigorous mind, he found ample employ- 
ment in digesting the information which lay within his immediate 
reach. 

For several years young Fox followed the business of a grazier, 
and found much consolation in the solitude which it afforded. It 
is said that he passed days in the hollow of an old tree medi- 
tating on religious subjects, and revolving with enthusiasm a life 
of moral purity. According to Neal, he afterward became a shoe- 
maker — a business also fitted for his contemplative habits. He 
was remarkably steady and exact, had no relish for the sports and 
gayeties of youth, and resisted pleasure with a firmness which was 
curious as it was sincere. The Avickedness of the times troubled 
him by night and by day. So convinced was he of its pernicious- 
ness, that, when only nineteen years of age, he resolved to break 
off all commerce with the world and its vanities. In simple pil- 
grim costume he started from home, and traveled through various 
portions of the country seeking out persons who were most famous 
for devotion, that he might gain consolation for his perturbed spirit. 
Such a pilgrim, in such times, was not likely to be understood, and 



72 SELF-MADE MEN. 

his journey was in vain ; but in all disappointments he was sus- 
tained by a belief, which he cherished to the end of his life, that 
he had received a special call from above to become a minister of 
reformation to the world. Whenever he met with a difficulty, he 
had an "opening" which revealed to him the course he should 
pursue. "When I had openings," he says, "they answered one 
another, and answered the Scriptures ; for I had great openings 
of the Scriptures." 

Although he claims to have received the revelation to which we 
have referred in his youth, he did not essay the active duties of his 
ministry until the twenty-third year of his life. " I was sent to 
turn the people from darkness to light — to the grace of God, and 
to the truth in the heart which came by Jesus, that all might come 
to know their salvation nigh. I saw that Christ died for all men, 
and that the manifestations of the Spirit were given to every man 
to profit withal. These things I did not see by the help of man, 
nor by the letter, though they are written in the letter ; but I saw 
them in the light of the Lord Jesus Christ, and by his immediate 
spirit and power, as did the holy men of God by whom the Scrip- 
tures were written." 

It is conceded that Fox had a wonderful power of preaching ; 
that his enthusiasm was overpowering; that his sincerity was 
unquestionable, and that his boldness and courage were equal to 
any emergency. Acting as he did under an impression which 
gave tone and importance to his words rather than to his thoughts, 
it is not remarkable that he possessed and exercised extreme fas- 
cination over masses, who listened eagerly to the words he utter- 
ed. Moreover, the absolute matter of his harangues was sound, 
wholesome, and elevating. In precept and in practice he was 
alike sincere. The people listened to his discourses, and found 
them strange ; they watched his actions, and found them strange ; 
for there was depravity in neither. 

He traveled extensively, and made converts every where. In 
1648 several meeting-houses were in operation. "He fasted 
much," says Neal, "and walked often abroad in retired places, 
with no other companion but his Bible." A man of peace, he 
excited war. The authorities tried to crush him. He was 
thrown into prison ; put in the stocks ; hooted from the house of 
meeting ; stoned from the city. This, and more, he bore with 
patience. At the first opportunity he preached again, and made 



GEORGE FOX. 73 

more converts. Not content with this, he exercised himself with 
" going to courts to cry for justice — in speaking and writing to 
judges to do justly — in warning such as kept houses for public 
entertainment that they should not let the people have more drink 
than would do them good — in testifying against wakes, feasts, 
May-games, sports, plays, and shows, which train people up to 
vanity, and lead them from the fear of God. In fairs, also, and 
markets, he was made to declare against their deceitful merchan- 
dise and cheating ; warning all to do justly, to speak the truth, 
to let their yea be yea, and their nay nay, and to do unto others 
as they would have others do unto them. He was moved also to 
cry against all sorts of music, and against mountebanks playing 
tricks on their stages, for they burdened the pure life, and stirred 
up the minds of the people to vanity." A man moved with so 
many internal admonitions, and ostentatious of pronouncing them, 
was not likely to escape the wrath of those whose sympathies were 
in an opposite direction. 

In the present day it is a matter of mirth even to right-minded 
people to see with what tenacity a Quaker's hat sticks to his head. 
Nothing was more irritating to Fox's opponents than the positive 
scorn of authority which the covered head implied. At times it 
was difficult to decide whether it was Fox or his hat that gave 
most offense. "Oh!" exclaimed Fox, "the blows, the punchings, 
the beatings, and imprisonments we underwent for not pulling off 
the hat ! The bad language and evil usage we received on this 
account is hard to be expressed, besides the danger we were some- 
times in of losing our lives for this matter, and that, too, by the 
great professors of Christianity." 

The authorities were never very severe with him, although he 
was frequently arrested and thrown into prison on frivolous 
charges. He was detained sometimes for days, sometimes for 
months, and then set at liberty. It was difficult to fabricate a 
grave charge against him, for, with all his enthusiasm, he was 
circumspect and well meaning ; it was still more difficult to sus- 
tain a charge, for he had an exact and logical mind which con- 
founded the lawyers. Frequently he prayed for his tormentors 
in open court, and invariably bade them " tremble at the word 
of the Lord." From this circumstance, the sect which he found- 
ed obtained the nickname of "Quakers." 

Cromwell, with his austere regard for every thing moral, rec- 

D 



74 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ognized all that was good in Fox and his tenets. He helped him 
out of some difficulties, and, it is said, invited him to dine at the 
palace, which, however, Fox declined. On a subsequent occa- 
sion he had an interview with the Protector, and laid all his 
grievances before him, not without result, for he was a man who 
possessed the power of persuasion in an eminent degree. Some 
curious anecdotes are related of this power. On one occasion, as 
he was traveling through Wales, he was overtaken by a man of 
some distinction, who had maliciously determined to arrest him 
on some unjust pretense. They entered into conversation, and 
Fox said so many things that were good, pure, and lofty, that his 
would-be-persecutor forgot his first intention, and invited Fox to 
his house, where he was treated with the greatest respect and hos- 
pitality. The result was that the man and his wife became con- 
verts to Quakerism. On another occasion, while undergoing a 
term of imprisonment, he was subjected to many unnecessary cru- 
elties by the jailer, who seemed to take a special pleasure in trying 
the patience of his prisoner. He was unable to disturb the pla- 
cidity of Fox's temper. All he could obtain was an earnest les- 
son of Christian forbearance, not unmixed with instruction, which 
was wholesome as it was strange in such a place. By these 
means Fox so won upon the better feelings of the jailer, that after 
his liberation the latter wrote to him in language humble and af- 
fectionate, begging that he might be admitted into the society of 
Friends. Many similar instances are recorded. 

In 1660, members of the society of Friends were to be found in 
all parts of the United Kingdom. The rapid increase in their 
numbers became a subject of serious alarm to the bigoted and the 
foolish. Quakers became the objects of peculiar aversion to coun- 
try magistrates. The jails were filled with them. Persecution 
strengthened their cause, and their numbers continued to increase. 
A number of country bigots resolved to put a stop to the evil by 
boldly striking at its head. Accordingly, Fox was arrested as a 
seditious and dangerous person, and as one who had committed a 
very long list of offenses, which were carefully enumerated in the 
indictment. The matter might have proved serious if Fox's 
friends had not procured an examination before the Court of 
King's Bench. The judges in that high court were amazed at 
the stupidity of the charges brought against the prisoner, and or- 
dered him to be immediately discharged. On this occasion and 



GEOKGE FOX. 75 

on others he was set at libert} r the moment he gave his word that 
he would appear for trial at an appointed day. This fact alone 
speaks volumes for the reputation he enjoyed even among his en- 
emies. 

The oath of Allegiance and Supremacy, which was revived in 
1661, became a sore stumbling-block to Fox and his disciples, 
who, of course, refused to take it. For this refusal Fox was 
brought to trial, and subjected to an inhuman imprisonment of 
six years' duration. On his release (1669) he married his wife 
Margaret, a highly-gifted and influential preacher among the 
Quakers. It was a mature wedding : Fox being in his forty- 
fifth year, and his wife ten years older. They lived together but 
little, but labored assiduously in the cause. When one happen- 
ed to get into prison, the other endeavored to obtain a release. 
Sometimes it happened that both were in prison at the same time. 

The immense energy which Fox brought to bear on his loved 
task may be estimated by the fact that during his career he preach- 
ed in all the principal towns of England, Scotland, Ireland, and 
Wales. He twice visited Holland and some parts of Germany, 
where multitudes joined the society. The years 1671-1672 he 
spent in the British West Indies and the colonies of America, 
where he traveled extensively, making some stay in New England, 
Pennsylvania, and Maryland. For more than forty years this re- 
markable man devoted the best energies of an unusual mind to 
the interests of a society which, under his guidance, grew to be, 
and still is, a model of Christian organization. Death found him 
busy in his ministrations, the 13th of November, 1699, aged 67 
years. Had he lived six years longer he would have seen all the 
claims of his society fully recognized by the English Parliament. 

George Fox is described as a man above the ordinary size, of 
graceful and engaging manners, and with an eye of piercing brill- 
iancy. In his habits he was temperate, ate spai*ingly, and avoid- 
ed all intoxicating drinks as a beverage. That he was a man of 
unusual force of character is amply demonstrated by his career. 
" His presence expressed a religious majesty," said William Penn. 
He was sincere in his belief that he had received his commission 
directly from Heaven, and his actions were not likely to be in- 
jured by that belief. He discharged his mission on earth brave- 
ly, and with wisdom, forbearance, and Christian hopefulness. His 
name will live. 



AMOS LAWBENCE. 

Amos Lawrence — one of the most pure and lovely of all self- 
made men — was born at Groton, Massachusetts, on the 22d of 
April, 1786. His ancestors were English, and probably migrated 
to this country in 1630. His father served in the Revolutionary 
war, and was wounded at the battle of Bunker Hill. His mother 
was a woman of the best affections, and of strongly-marked char- 
acter, capable and willing in the discharge of all those duties that 
make home delightful. 

Young Amos, a weakly child, was often detained from school 
in consequence of ill health; but, being a lad of quick parts, he 
made considerable progress in the rudiments of a solid English 
education, despite this drawback. The master of the district 
school was frequently a visitor at his father's house, a house 
famed for its hospitality, and young Amos delightedly listened to 
the patriotic sentiments which were uttered in those times that 
tried men's souls. 

In 1799, being still too weak to assist on the farm, he was 
placed at a small store in the town of Dunstable, where he re- 
mained a few months. He was then transferred to the counting- 



AMOS LAWRENCE. 77 

house of James Brazer, Esq., of Groton, an enterprising and 
thrifty country merchant. Several clerks were employed, and as 
Mr. Brazer, after a few years, ceased to take an active part in the 
business, much of the responsibility of the establishment rested 
on young Lawrence. By attention, probity, and fairness, he had 
justly entitled himself to this confidence. An instance may be 
given of the self-control which, even at this early day, he was 
capable of exercising. Mr. Brazer's store contained all sorts of 
merchandise. It was intended to, and really did, supply the wants 
of a small neighborhood. In those days temperance was little 
understood, and total abstinence scarcely thought of. Huge quan- 
tities of liquors were retailed daily, and imbibed with the regularity 
of clock-work. The clerks were accustomed to take their morning 
draught, and Amos, falling into the habit without thought, joined 
them. At first he had no appetite for the thing, and merely took 
it because it appeared to be the fashion ; but after a while he 
began to look forward to the hour for imbibing with pleasure. 
Alarmed at this circumstance, he immediately resolved that he 
would break off. The task was an easy one so far as his mere 
palate was concerned, but delicacy in the matter of drinking was 
a thing that was looked on as supremely ridiculous by his com- 
panions, and his determination excited their laughter and con- 
tempt. Unmindful of these, he resolved on total abstinence, and 
adhered to his resolution in spite of the natural sensitiveness of 
youth and the unmerciful ridicule of his companions. "My first 
resolution," he says, " was to abstain for a week, and, when the 
week was out, for a month, and then for a year. Finally, I re- 
solved to abstain for the rest of my apprenticeship, which was for 
five years longer. During that whole period I never drank a 
spoonful, though I mixed gallons daily for my old master and his 
customers. I decided not to be a slave to tobacco in any form, 
though I loved the odor of it then, and even now have in my 
drawer a superior Havana cigar — given me, not long since, by a 
friend — but only to smell of. I have never in my life smoked a 
cigar; never chewed but one quid, and that was before I was 
fifteen ; and never took an ounce of snuff, though the scented 
rappee of forty years ago had great charms for me." 

During the term of his apprenticeship he met with an accident 
which was near proving fatal. In assisting an acquaintance to 
unload a gun, by some accident the charge exploded, and passed 



78 SELF-MADE MEN. 

directly through the middle of his hand, making a round hole like 
a bullet. Sixty-three shot were picked out of the floor after the 
accident, and it seemed almost a miracle that he ever again had 
the use of his hand. 

After the expiration of his apprenticeship (which lasted seven 
years), Mr. Lawrence, now in his twenty-first year, made a journey 
to Boston for the purpose of establishing a credit which might 
enable him to commence business in Groton on his own account. 
He had not been many days in Boston when he received the offer 
of a clerkship from a respectable house. Wishing to familiarize 
himself with the metropolitan way of doing business, he accept- 
ed the offer. His employers were so well satisfied with the ca- 
pacities of their new clerk, that in a few months they proposed 
to receive him as a partner. For reasons of his own, Mr. Law- 
rence declined the honor, but soon after started in business for 
himself (Boston, December 17th, 1807). He was then, in the 
matter of property, not worth a dollar, but his character was so 
well known and appreciated that he had little difficulty in ob- 
taining a sufficient credit. For the rest he was indebted to his 
father, who mortgaged his farm in order to assist his son with a 
thousand dollars. In the conduct of his business he adopted a 
rigid code of principles, beginning with the maxim, "Business 
before friends." Writing of this period, he says : " I adopted the 
plan of keeping an accurate account of merchandise bought and 
sold each day, with the profit, as far as practicable. This plan 
was pursued for a number of years, and I never found my mer- 
chandise fall short in taking an account of stock, which I did as 
often at least as once in each year. I was thus enabled to form 
an opinion of my actual state as a business man. I adopted also 
the rule always to have property, after my second year's business, 
to represent forty per cent, at least more than I owed ; that is, 
never to be in debt more than two and a half times my capital. 
This caution saved me from ever getting embarrassed. If it were 
more generally adopted we should see fewer failures in business. 
Excessive credit is the rock on which so many business men are 
broken. * * I made about fifteen hundred dollars the first year, 
and more than four thousand the second. Probably, had I made 
four thousand the first year, I should have failed the second or 
third year. I practiced a system of rigid economy, and never 
allowed myself to spend a fourpence for unnecessary objects until 
I had acquired it." 



AMOS LAWKENCE. 79 

Having become firmly established in Boston, he resolved to 
take his brother Abbott (afterward minister to the court of St. 
James) as an apprentice (October, 1808). Abbott was in his fif- 
teenth year, and made his appearance in Boston with a bundle 
under his arm, and less than three dollars in his pocket. He 
was a bright lad, but needed the watchful eye of his brother to 
keep him from the snares and pitfalls with which a large city 
abounds. In 1814 he was taken into partnership by Amos. Pre- 
vious to this the latter had taken unto himself the great comfort 
of the world, a wife (1811). With this estimable lady he lived a 
life of domestic bliss, cut short by her untimely death in January, 
1819. The character of Mrs. Lawrence is touchingly expressed 
in an incident which occurred a few hours before her dissolution. 
She called for paper, and with a pencil traced in a trembling hand 
some directions respecting small memorials to friends, and then 
added, " Feeling that I must soon depart from this, I trust, to a 
better world, I resign my very dear friends to God, who has done 
so much for me. I am in ecstasies of love. How can I praise 
him enough !" 

The loss of his wife (by whom he had three children) was an 
affliction so severe that Mr. Lawrence became utterly prostrated 
by it. A gloomy despondency settled on his mind, his health fail- 
ed, and it became necessary, to avert dire consequences, that he 
should obtain a change of scene. Under the advice of his physi- 
cian, he made a tour through Virginia, and paid a visit to Wash- 
ington, where he had the good fortune to hear Daniel Webster. 
On his return he was able to resume his usual avocations with 
greater composure. 

Conducted on the surest basis of commercial prosperity, it is 
not remarkable that the business of the Lawrence establishment 
prospered. At a time when credit was shaken in every leading- 
city of. the Union by the wild and heedless thirst for speculation ; 
when houses that were considered the most secure tottered and 
fell in the general crash, Lawrence and his brother pursued their 
quiet, unpretending way, unseduced by the hope of sudden wealth, 
unterrified by the dread of prospective ruin. By well-directed 
prudence and easily contented expectations, they weathered the 
storm that destroyed their neighbors, and possibly derived some 
benefit from the superior wisdom which enabled them to do so. 

In April. 1821. Mr. Lawrence married his second wife,, and in 



80 ' SELF-MADE MEN. 

the same year was elected a representative from Boston to the 
Legislature for the session of 1821-1822. This was the only oc- 
casion on which he ever served in a public legislative body. He 
attended faithfully to the duties of his office, although with much 
sacrifice to his own personal interests. 

From this point it is unnecessary to pursue the history of Mr. 
Lawrence's career. The "Diary and Correspondence" given to 
the world by his son, Dr. Lawrence, supply all the information 
that the student may require, and to that work we cheerfully di- 
rect the attention of young men, who, on entering life through 
one of the many channels of trade, desire, and to a great extent 
need, the encouragement of a successful model. By carefully and 
earnestly applying himself to the duties of life, Mr. Lawrence be- 
came rich, but he did not allow himself to be engrossed by the 
cares of wealth. On more than one occasion, when he found that 
he was making too much money, he limited the extent of his 
trade, so that he might not be tempted. When at length he found 
himself in the receipt of an income more than sufficient for the 
frugal wants of his own home, he extended his generous hand, 
and, with a wise philanthropy, relieved the destitute, assisted the 
needy, succored the weak, and built up charities with the strong 
faith of an enlightened Christian. No man knows the extent of 
his bounties, for it was one of the glories of his life that he sel- 
dom spoke of what he did. Throughout all his career he was 
governed by the pious hope that he would be rewarded with the 
"Well done !" of his heavenly Master. 

With the object of knowing the amount of his expenditures for 
purposes other than the support of his family, he commenced, in 
1829, to keep a particular account of charities and appropriations 
for others. This was kept up perpetually until the year of his 
death, a period of twenty-three years. During that time this 
good man expended in the most wise and beneficent ways no less 
than six hundred and thirty-nine thousand dollars. "Many per- 
sons have done more," says his son, modestly, "but few, perhaps, 
have done as much in proportion to the means which they had to 
bestow." The passion for accumulation was entirely unknown to 
Mr. Lawrence. If he made twenty thousand dollars more in one 
year than another, he rejoiced simply because it enabled him to 
expend twenty thousand dollars more for charitable objects. His 
philanthropy extended to all classes, all sects, all purposes. He 



AMOS LAWEENCE. 81 

was absolutely without a prejudice. Nor did he give merely to 
charities, and persons in want of charitable assistance. To oth- 
ers who derived nothing but gratification from the approach of a 
good man, he made suitable gifts, stimulating them to kindred ex- 
ertions in the good cause of brotherly love. " And in so doing, 
and in witnessing the results, and in the atmosphere of sympathy 
and love thus created, there was a test, and a discipline, and an 
enjoyment, as well as a benefit to others, that could have been 
reached in no other way." Another peculiarity of the bounty of 
Mr. Lawrence, and in which he was pre-eminent, was the person- 
al attention and sympathy which he bestowed with it. " He had 
in his house," says Professor Hopkins, " a room where he kept 
stores of useful articles for distribution. He made up the bundle ; 
he directed the package. No detail was overlooked. He remem- 
bered the children, and designated for each the toy, the book, the 
elegant gift. He thought of every want, and was ingenious and 
happy in devising appropriate gifts. In this attention to the mi- 
nutest token of regard, while, at the same time, he could give 
away thousands like a prince, he was unequaled ; and if the gift 
was appropriate, the manner of giving was not less so. There 
was in this the nicest appreciation of the feeling of others, and an 
intuitive perception of delicacy and propriety. These were the 
characteristics that gave him a hold upon the hearts of many, and 
made his death really felt as that of few other men in Boston 
could have been. In this we find not a little of the utility, and 
much of the beauty of charity. Even in his human life man does 
not live by bread alone, but by sympathy and the play of recipro- 
cal affection, and is often more touched by the kindness than by 
the relief. Only this sympathy it is that can establish the right 
relation between the rich and the poor, and the necessity for this 
can be superseded by no legal provision. This only can neutral- 
ize the repellent and aggressive tendencies of individuals and of 
classes, and make society a brotherhood, where the various ine- 
qualities shall work out moral good, and where acts of mutual 
kindness and helpfulness may pass and repass, as upon a golden 
chain, during a brief pilgrimage and scene of probation. It is a 
great and a good thing for a rich man to set the stream of chari- 
ty in motion ; to employ an agent, to send a check, to found an 
asylum, to endow a professorship, to open a fountain that shall 
flow for ages ; but it is as different from sympathy with present 

D 2 



82 SELF-MADE MEN. 

suffering, and the relief of immediate want, as the building of a 
dam to turn a factory by one great sluiceway is from the irriga- 
tion of the fields. By Mr. Lawrence both were done. He gave 
as a Christian man, from a sense of religious obligation. Not 
that all his gifts had a religious aspect : he gave gifts of friend- 
ship and affection. There was a large inclosure where the affec- 
tions walked foremost, and where, though they asked leave of 
Duty, they yet received no prompting from her." 

From the eloquent address of President Hopkins we also quote 
the following estimate of Mr. Lawrence's religious character : 
" He was a deeply religious man. His trust in God and his hope 
of salvation through Christ were the basis of his character. He 
believed in the providence of God as concerned in all events, and 
as discriminating and retributive in this world. He felt that he 
could trust God in his providence where he could not see. ' The 
events of my life,' he says, i have been so far ordered in a way to 
make me feel that I know nothing at the time except that a Fa- 
ther rules ; and his discipline, however severe, is never more so 
than is required.' He believed in the Bible, and saw rightly its 
relation to all our blessings. * What,' he writes again, ' should 
we do if the Bible were not the foundation of our self-govern- 
ment % and what will become of us when we willfully and wick- 
edly cast it behind us V He read the Bible morning and evening 
in his family, and prayed with them ; and it may aid those who 
are acquainted with the prayers of Thornton, in forming a con- 
ception of his religious character, to know that he used them. 
Family religion he esteemed as above all price ; and when he first 
learned that a beloved relative had established family worship, he 
wept for joy. He distributed religious books very extensively, 
chiefly those of the American Tract Society and of the American 
Sunday School Union. * * * * Of creeds held in the understand- 
ing, but not influencing the life, he thought little, and the tend- 
ency of his mind was to practical rather than doctrinal views. 
He believed in our Lord Jesus Christ as a Savior, and trusted in 
him for salvation. He was a man of habitual prayer. The last 
time I visited him, he said to me that he had been restless during 
the night, and that the only way in which he could get < quieted 
was by getting near to God,' and that he went to sleep repeating 
a prayer. During the same visit, he spoke strongly of his readi- 
ness, and even of his desire to depart. He viewed death with 



AMOS LAWRENCE. 83 

tranquillity, and hope, and preparation, for it was habitual with 
him. What need I say more ? At midnight the summons came, 
and his work was done." 

At midnight on the 30-31st of December, 1852, this admira- 
ble man breathed his last, without having awakened to conscious- 
ness from the slumber into which he had fallen. On the morn- 
ing of his death was found upon his table the following lines, cop- 
ied by him from a favorite hymn : 

"Vital spark of heavenly flame, 
Quit, oh quit this mortal frame ! 
Trembling, hoping, lingering, flying — 
Oh the pain, the bliss of dying ! 
Cease, fond nature, cease thy strife, 
And let me languish into life. 
Hark !— " 

The abrupt termination, as if called away by the Angel of Death, 
is most singular. 

The memoranda and letters of Mr. Lawrence are voluminous, 
and display a simple felicity of language rarely surpassed. They 
have been incorporated to an extent in the " Diaiy and Corre- 
spondence" edited by Dr. Lawrence. To that work we once more 
direct the attention of the reader. 



HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 

The story of a thankful man, told in a delightful manner, is 
the "True Story of My Life," by Mr. Andersen. From this vol- 
ume we shall condense a narrative of one of the most remark- 
able literary characters of the age — a man whose delightful fan- 
cies are known in every country, whose genial humor is a source 
of gratification to millions of the rising generation, and whose in- 
dividual history is full of happy incident and instruction. 

Hans Christian Andersen is a native of Denmark — a poetical 
land, full of popular traditions, old songs, and eventful history. 
He was born at Odense in the year 1805 (April 2d). His father 
was a shoemaker, and a man of richly-gifted and truly poetical 
mind ; his mother, a few years older, was a simple peasant-woman, 
ignorant of life and the world, but possessed of a heart full of love. 
They were in extremely humble circumstances, and the bedstead 
on which the little Hans made his first appearance in the world 
was nearly the only article of furniture in the room, and had been 
constructed by Mr. Andersen out of the wooden frame which, only 
a short time before, had borne the coffin of a deceased count. The 
remnants of the black cloth on the woodwork kept the fact still 
in remembrance. Being the only child, Hans was, of course, ex- 
tremely spoiled. His father gratified him in all his wishes. As 
soon as he could understand the meaning of language, he read to 
him from Holberg and the "Arabian Nights' Entertainments." 
On Sundays he went out into the woods, not to talk with him, 
for he was silent and moody on such occasions, but to give him 
an opportunity of playing among the wild flowers and plucking 
the fragrant strawberry. 

Young Hans was from the earliest of a warm, genial imagina- 
tion, and every thing around him tended to excite it. Odense 
itself, in those days, was a totally different city to what it is now ; 
a person might have fancied himself living hundreds of years 
ago, so many strange customs prevailed which belonged to an ear- 
lier period. The guilds walked in procession through the town, 



HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 85 

with their harlequin before them, and mace and bells ; on Shrove 
Tuesday the butchers led the fattest ox through the streets adorned 
with garlands, while a boy in a white shirt, and with great wings 
on his shoulders, rode upon it ; the sailors paraded through the 
city with music and all their flags flying, and then two of the 
boldest among them stood and wrestled upon a plank placed be- 
tween two boats, and the one who was not thrown into the water 
was the victor. Every event which occurred in or around his 
home printed itself in vivid colors on his memory. He noticed 
every thing, seldom played with other boys, and even at school 
took little interest in their games. He was a singularly dreamy 
child, and so constantly went about with his eyes shut as at last 
to give the impression of having weak sight. Like most people 
who observe a great deal, he seemed to observe nothing. 

In the summer months he used to accompany his mother to the 
harvest-fields, and assist in the operation of gleaning. One day 
they went to a place, the bailiff of which was well known for be- 
ing a man of a rude and savage disposition. They had not been 
engaged long when they saw him coming with a huge whip in his 
hand. The gleaners hurried away with the greatest precipitation, 
but poor little Hans lost his wooden shoes, and the thorns pricked 
him so that he could not run as fast as the others. The bailiff 
came up and lifted his whip to strike him. Hans looked in his 
face, and involuntarily exclaimed, 

"How dare you strike me, when God can see it?" 

The strong, stern man looked at him, and at once became 
mild; he patted the little fellow on his cheek, and gave him 
money. 

At an early age Hans Christian lost his father, who was a strange 
man, superior to his station, and unwisely dissatisfied with it. One 
morning he awoke in a state of the wildest excitement, and Hans 
was dispatched in all haste to a wise woman, who lived some miles 
from Odense, to obtain medical relief. She questioned him, meas- 
ured his arm with a woolen thread, made extraordinary signs, and 
at last laid a green twig upon his breast, saying that it was a piece 
of the same kind of tree upon which the Savior was crucified. 
" Go, now," she said, "by the river's side toward home. If your 
father will die this time, then you will meet his ghost." Hans 
obeyed the injunction, but, as he did not meet any one, he con- 
gratulated himself that his father was safe. He died the third 



86 SELF-MADE MEN. 

day after that. His corpse lay on the bed, and Hans slept with 
his mother. A cricket chirped the whole night through. 

"He is dead," said Mrs. Andersen, addressing the insect ; "thou 
needest not call him. The ice maiden has fetched him." 

The allusion was to an incident which occurred the winter be- 
fore, when the window-panes were frozen. Mr. Andersen pointed 
to them, and showed to his son a figure as of a maiden with out- 
stretched arms. " She is come to fetch me," said he, in jest. 
And now, when he lay dead on the bed, mother and son remem- 
bered it with sorrow. 

After his father's death Hans was left entirely to himself. His 
mother went out washing, and he amused himself as best he could 
with books and playthings. There dwelt in the neighborhood the 
widow of a clergyman, Madame Bunkeflod, with the sister of her 
deceased husband. This lady opened her doors to the boy, and 
hers was the first house belonging to the educated classes into 
which he was kindly received. The deceased husband had writ- 
ten poems, and had gained a reputation in Danish literature. 
His spinning songs were at that time in the mouths of the peo- 
ple. Here it was that Hans heard for the first time the word poet 
spoken, and that with so much reverence as proved it to be some- 
thing sacred. "My brother the poet," said Bunkeflod's sister, 
and her eyes sparkled as she said it. From her he learned that 
it was something glorious and something fortunate to be a poet. 
Here, too, for the first time, he read Shakspeare, in a bad trans- 
lation, to be sure ; but the bold descriptions, the heroic incidents, 
witches, and ghosts were exactly to his taste. The more persons 
died in a play, the more interesting he thought it ; and when, soon 
after, he himself wrote a play, he killed every body at the end, 
and thought it very fine. After this he commenced a new piece, 
in which a king and queen were among the dramatis personal. He 
did not agree with Shakspeare that these dignified personages 
should speak like other men and women. He asked his mother 
and different people how a king ought properly to speak, but no 
one knew exactly. They said it was many years since a king had 
been in Odense, but he certainly spoke in a foreign language. 
Acting on this suggestion, Hans procured a sort of lexicon, in 
which were German, French, and English words with Danish 
meanings. He took a word out of each language, and inserted 
them in the speeches of his king and queen. It was a regular 



HANS CHKISTIAN ANDERSEN. 87 

Babel-like language, suitable, he thought, for such elevated per- 
sonages. 

Hans was now a tall lad, remarkable for a splendid voice, a 
passion for reading and acting, and for making fancy costumes for 
the puppets which he used on a little stage to enact his plays. 
He was sent to the charity-school, but he learned little there, and 
could scarcely spell or count when he left. His mother, in the 
mean time, had married again, and determined that Hans should 
be confirmed, in order that he might be apprenticed to the tailoring 
trade, and thus do something rational. An old female tailor al- 
tered his deceased father's great-coat into a suit for the occasion, 
and never before had he worn so good a coat. He had also, for 
the first time in his life, a pair of boots. His delight was only 
equaled by his fear that every body would not see them. To 
avert this latter calamity, he drew them up over his trowsers, and 
thus marched through the church. The boots creaked, and that 
inwardly pleased him, for thus the congregation were informed of 
the fact that they were new. " My whole devotion," says Mr. 
Andersen, " was disturbed ; I was aware of it ; and it caused me 
a horrible pang of conscience that my thoughts should be as much 
with my new boots as with God. I prayed him earnestly from 
my heart to forgive me, and then again I thought about my new 
boots." 

Hans had contrived to save a small sum of money, amounting 
to about six dollars. With this he begged that he might be al- 
lowed to go to Copenhagen before he entered on the unwelcome 
business of tailoring. He was anxious to see what he then con- 
sidered the greatest city in the world. He wept and prayed un- 
til his mother consented. She packed up his clothes in a small 
bundle, and made a bargain with the driver of a post -carriage to 
take him back to Copenhagen for three rix-dollars. On the 5th 
of September, 1819, he arrived there in safety. It was his ambi- 
tion to become in some way connected with the theatre, for his 
tastes and his talents alike seemed to indicate that sphere as one 
in which he might win distinction. On the following day he 
dressed himself in his confirmation suit, not forgetting the boots, 
although this time they were worn under the pantaloons ; and 
thus, in his best attire, with a hat which fell half over his eyes, 
he hastened to present a letter of introduction to the celebrated 
dancer, Madame Schall, who was the reigning attraction of the 



88 SELF-MADE MEN. 

theatre. " Before I rung the bell, I fell on my knees before 
the door, and prayed God that I here might find help and sup- 
port. A maid-servant came down the steps with her basket in 
her hand. She smiled kindly at me, gave me a shilling (Danish), 
and tripped on. Astonished, I looked at her and the money. I 
had on my confirmation suit, and thought I must look very smart. 
How, then, could she think that I wanted to beg ? I called aft- 
er her. 

" ' Keep it ! keep it !' said she to me in return, and was gone. 

" At length I was admitted to the dancer. She looked at me 
in great amazement, and then heard what I had to say. She had 
not the slightest knowledge of him from whom the letter came, 
and my whole appearance and behavior seemed very strange to 
her. I confessed to her my heartfelt inclination for the theatre ; 
and upon her asking me what characters I thought I could rep- 
resent, I replied, Cinderella. This piece had been performed in 
Odense by the royal company, and the principal character had so 
greatly taken my fancy, that I could play the part perfectly from 
memory. In the mean time, I asked her permission to take off 
my boots, otherwise I was not light enough for this character; 
and then, taking up my broad hat for a tambourine, I began to 
dance and sing. My strange gestures and my great activity 
caused the lady to think me out of my mind, and she lost no time 
in getting rid of me." 

From the dancer Hans went to the manager of the theatre. 
This functionary looked at him, and said he was too thin. " Oh," 
replied the boy, " if you will only engage me with one hundred 
rix-dollars banco salary, then I shall soon get fat !" The manager 
was not persuaded, and bade him go on his way, saying that they 
only engaged people of education. Deeply mortified, he did so. 
The next morning he discovered that his funds had dwindled down 
to a solitary rix-dollar. It became necessary, therefore, either to 
return home or obtain work with some handicraftsman. He de- 
termined on the latter course, and soon obtained a trial at a cab- 
inet-maker's, where he was placed in a workshop with a number 
of men. Their conversation was so repulsive and coarse that 
young Andersen was unable to stand it. He rushed from the 
place, forlorn and destitute. 

He now bethought him of having read of an Italian, Siboni, 
who was the director of the Academy of Music in Copenhagen. 



HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 89 

Every one had praised the lad's voice : perhaps something might 
be done for its sake, if not for the owner's. Hans hurried to the 
maestro s house, and discovered that there was a large dinner- 
party within. Nothing dismayed, he unbosomed himself to the 
housekeeper, and so worked on her sympathies that she faced the 
company up stairs, and repeated the boy's story. At length the 
door opened, and all the guests came out and looked at him. 
" They would have me to sing, and Siboni heard me attentively. 
I gave some scenes out of Holberg, and repeated a few poems ; 
and then all at once the sense of my unhappy condition so over- 
came me that I burst into tears. The whole company applaud- 
ed. ' I prophesy,' said one of the guests, ' that something will 
come out of him ; but do not be vain when, some day, the whole 
public shall applaud thee ;' and then he added something about 
pure, true nature, and that this is too often destroyed by years 
and by intercourse with mankind. I did not understand it at all. 

" Siboni promised to cultivate my voice, and that I therefore 
should succeed as singer at the Theatre Royal. It made me very 
happy ; I laughed and wept ; and as the housekeeper led me out, 
and saw the excitement under which I labored, she stroked my 
cheeks, and said that on the following day I should go to Professor 
Weyse, who meant to do something for me, and upon whom I could 
depend. 

" I went to Weyse, who himself had risen from poverty; he had 
deeply felt and fully comprehended my unhappy condition, and had 
raised by a subscription seventy-six rix-dollars banco for me. I 
then wrote my first letter to my mother, a letter full of rejoicing 
for the good fortune the whole w T orld seemed to pour on me. 
My mother, in her joy, showed my letter to all her friends; many 
heard of it with astonishment; others laughed at it; for what was 
to be the end of it ? In order to understand Sibonij it was neces- 
sary for me to learn something of German. A woman of Copen- 
hagen, with whom I traveled from Odense to this city, and who 
gladly, according to her means, w r ould have supported me, obtained, 
through one of her acquaintance, a language-master, who gratui- 
tously gave me some German lessons, and thus I learned a few 
phrases in that language. • Siboni received me into his house, and 
gave me food and instruction ; but half a year afterward my voice 
broke, or w r as injured, in consequence of my being compelled to 
wear bad shoes through the w r inter, and having, besides, no warm 



90 SELF-MADE MEN. 

under-clothing. There was no longer any prospect that I should 
become a fine singer. Siboni told me candidly, and counseled me 
to go to Odense, and there learn a trade. 

;t I, who, in the rich colors of fancy, had described to my mother 
the happiness which I actually felt, must now return home, and 
become an object of derision ! Agonized with this thought, I stood 
as if crushed to the earth." 

He found two good friends in this dark moment of his life. 
Professor Weyse and the poet Guldberg stepped forward, and 
undertook to support and educate the young fellow. For more 
than two years he devoted himself to the study of the German 
and Danish languages, under their auspices. At the end of that 
time he had partly regained the use of his voice, and the singing- 
master of the choir-school offered him a situation. He remained 
here until May, 1823, and was then dismissed on account of lim- 
ited education. Once more he felt himself cast on the wide world 
without support or help. In this emergency, he determined on re- 
storing his fallen fortunes by writing a tragedy, from the proceeds 
of which he hoped to be able to perfect his education. It was 
founded on a passage in history, and rejoiced in the title of " Alf- 
sol." He was delighted with the first act, and immediately hur- 
ried off with it to a literary gentleman, who heard it read good-hu- 
moredly, and did all he could to secure its reception by a manager. 
The play was returned, but the director of the Theatre Royal ac- 
companied the rejection with a letter, in which he said some kind 
words to the author, and " expressed a hope that by study, after go- 
ing to school, and the previous knowledge of all that is requisite, he 
might some time be able to write a work which should be worthy 
of being acted on the Danish stage." In order, therefore, to obtain 
the means for his support, Collin, the director referred to, recom- 
mended young Andersen to King Frederick the Sixth, who granted 
to him a certain sum annually for some years ; and by means of 
Collin, also, the directors of the High Schools allowed him to re- 
ceive free instruction in the grammar-school at Slagelse, where a 
new and active rector had just been appointed. Dumb with as- 
tonishment, he was unable to sufficiently thank the generous man 
who had thus interested himself in his welfare. He has done it 
subsequently by grateful and touching remembrances in his works. 

He was a student until September, 1828. Immediately after 
the examination he published his first work, "A Journey on Foot 



HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 91 

to Amack," a sportive, fantastic work, crowded with strange fan- 
cies and whims. It achieved an immediate success, and passed 
through several editions in a very short time. With the proceeds 
of this work he made a tour through Jutland and Fiinen in 1830, 
and in North Germany the year following. On the latter occasion 
he left Denmark for the first time, and saw much that astonished 
his simple nature. The journey had great influence on his mind, 
which, by criticism and other causes, had been brought into a con- 
dition of morbid excitability. His second work, containing his im- 
pressions of this tour, was called " Shadow Pictures." It elicited 
some petty criticism. On one occasion a stuck-up pedagogue 
asked him whether he wrote Dog with a little d, having discov- 
ered such an error in the press. Andersen jestingly replied, 
"Yes, because I here spoke of a little dog." 

From the end of the year 1828 to the beginning of 1839 he 
maintained himself solely by his writings. Denmark is a small 
country ; but few books at that time went to Sweden and Norway, 
and on that account the profit could not be great. He found it 
difficult to support the appearance necessary for his calling and 
the circles in which he moved. To produce and always to be 
producing was destructive, nay, impossible. He translated a few 
pieces for the theatre, and wrote the text of an opera, which 
Hartmann set to music. He also worked up Sir Walter Scott's 
novel of the "Bride of Lammermoor" for another young composer. 
These necessary productions — necessary, because they secured the 
means and leisure for better works — were mercilessly treated by 
the reviewers. They denied him all talent, and hailed these works 
as an indication of inevitable decay. So prejudiced were people 
by these attacks, that when, soon after, he printed a new collection 
of poetry, called " The Twelve Months of the Year," they could 
detect no merit in the volume, although subsequently they found 
out that it contained some of the author's best poems. He ex- 
perienced much unkindness from his contemporaries, and heaped 
burning coals on their heads by publishing a little volume called 
u Vignettes to the Danish Poets," in which he characterized the 
dead and the living authors in a few lines each, but only spoke 
of that which was good in them. The book excited attention ; 
it was regarded as one of his best works ; it was imitated, but 
the critics did not meddle with it. 

Shortly after this, Andersen obtained a traveling stipend from 



92 SELF-MADE MEN. 

government, and once more set out on his travels, praying to God 
that he might die far away from Denmark, or return strengthen- 
ed for activity, and in a condition to produce works which should 
win for him and his beloved friends joy and honor. During his 
sojourn in France and Switzerland he composed his poem " Agnete 
and the Merman," a work which possesses merit, but which met 
with a cold reception. In August, 1834, Andersen returned to 
Denmark, bearing with him the manuscript, nearly completed, of 
his best known work, the "Improvisatore." It was with diffi- 
culty that he found a publisher. At length it appeared. Every 
one was delighted ; the critics were silent, his sunken fortunes 
raised, and his position as an author of decided originality and 
power fully recognized. Other tales and stories followed in quick 
succession, and his name became known beyond the boundaries of 
his own country. In 1840 he traveled into the East, and on his 
return gave to the world, as the fruit of his journey, the "Poets' 
Bazar." In 1845 he received from his old friend and patron, the 
King of Denmark, a pension, which placed him beyond the reach 
of want or pecuniary need. In the next year he traveled through 
Rome, Naples, and the Pyrenees, and wrote his " True Story of 
My Life." The following year he visited England, and met with 
a hearty reception, which he has remembered in subsequent works. 
Mr. Andersen is a prolific author. A collected edition of his 
works, published at Leipsic in 1847, numbered no fewer than thir- 
ty-five volumes, and since that time there have been several addi- 
tions. He is undoubtedly a man of genius, but his genius is more 
quaint than comprehensive. In fairy tales and brief stories he 
shines to best advantage. The brightness and genial fervor of 
his imagination, his poetical spirit and quaint humor, combined 
with unvarying kindliness, render these little works peculiarly de- 
lightful. They rank among the very best of their class, and are 
unquestionably of enduring value. In his longer works he is too 
descriptive, and too fond of elaboration. The wholeness of the 
art production is lost in the exaggeration of its details. In his 
books of travel there is a strong current of personal vanity, which, 
under Andersen's treatment, becomes a modest virtue. At first 
it is pleasant, but constant iteration makes it tedious. There is 
so much, however, that is excellent in every thing Mr. Andersen 
has written, that no one should deny himself the luxury of read- 
ing his smallest or his greatest work. 



HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 93 

We will conclude this sketch of a thankful man with a tranquil 
and beautiful quotation from the "True Story of My Life :" 

" The story of my life, up to the present hour, lies unrolled be- 
fore me, so rich and beautiful that I could not have invented it. 
I feel that I am a child of good fortune ; almost every one meets 
me full of love and candor, and seldom has my confidence in hu- 
man nature been deceived. From the prince to the poorest peas- 
ant, I have felt the noble human heart beat. It is a joy to live, 
and to believe in God and man. Openly and full of confidence, 
as if I sat among dear friends, I have here related the story of my 
life, have spoken both of my sorrows and joys, and have express- 
ed my pleasure at each mark of applause and recognition, as I 
believe I might even express it before God himself. But, then, 
whether this may be vanity ? I know not ; my heart was affect- 
ed and humble at the same time ; my thought was gratitude to 
God. * * * * When the Christmas tree is lighted — when, as peo- 
ple say, the white bees swarm — I shall be, God willing, again in 
Denmark with my dear ones, my heart filled with the flowers of 
travel, and strengthened both in body and mind. Then will new 
works grow upon paper ; may God lay his blessing on them ! He 
will do so. A star of good fortune shines upon me ; there are 
thousands who deserve it far more than I. I often myself can 
not conceive why I, in preference to numberless others, should re- 
ceive so much joy: may it continue to shine ! But should it set, 
perhaps while I conclude these lines, still it has shone ; I have 
received my rich portion ; let it set ! From this, also, the best 
will spring. To God and men my thanks — my love !" 




ANTHONY WAYNE. 

This illustrious warrior and eccentric man was born in the 
county of Chester, Pennsylvania, on the 1st of January, 1745. 
His parents were of English descent, and owned a farm which 
the first immigrant had purchased on his arrival. Of Anthony's 
youth we have but little knowledge. A letter written by his uncle 
informs us that he was not particularly smart in a literary point 
of view, but that he would make a good soldier, having already 
distracted the brains of two thirds of his schoolmates with re- 
hearsals of battles, sieges, etc. A reprimand from his father, 
accompanied with a threat that he should be taken from school 
and placed on the farm, turned Anthony's attention more serious- 
ly to his studies ; he applied himself with diligence, and in a few 
months left the academy prepared for a higher place of instruction. 
He was removed to the Philadelphia Academy, where he remained 
until his eighteenth year. Shortly after this he returned to his 
native county, and opened an office as a land surveyor. In his 
twenty-first year, Mr. Wayne was appointed agent to inspect the 
American settlements in Nova Scotia : the threatening aspect of 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 95 

the relations between the two countries brought the undertaking 
to an end in 1767. In this year Mr. Wayne returned once more 
to Chester County, bearing with him a young and newly-married 
wife. He continued to pursue the business of land surveyor until 
duties of national importance drew him from his office to a sphere 
of greater usefulness. 

At the earliest period of the Revolutionary struggle, Mr. Wayne 
gave the whole of his attention to the formation and instruction of 
military associations. In a very short space of time he succeeded 
in organizing a volunteer corps in his native county, which soon 
became remarkable for its efficiency. Early in January, 1776, 
Congress conferred on Mr. Wayne the rank of colonel, and the 
command of one of the four regiments required from Pennsylvania 
to re-enforce the northern army. The regiment was soon raised, 
and, under Colonel Wayne, proceeded to Canada, where it speedily 
became a part of Thompson's brigade. In an unfortunate expe- 
dition against the enemy, conducted by General Thompson, Wayne 
distinguished himself by effecting a difficult but successful retreat 
for that portion of the troops which devolved to his command. 
Subsequently, when a retreat was ordered to Lake Champlain, 
Wayne was assigned the duty of covering the movement with the 
Pennsylvania troops. The retreat had to be conducted with great 
expedition, and Wayne's troops were scarcely in the boats when 
the enemy came up. Owing, however, to the excellence of the 
arrangements, Ticonderoga was reached in safety on the 17th of 
July. 

The British general advanced to Crown Point, where he com- 
menced a series of careful reconnoitrings. The result was unfa- 
vorable to an immediate assault, and the British general concluded 
to defer it until the following spring, withdrawing his army to Cana- 
da for the winter months. So soon as this was found to be actually 
the fact, the American general repaired to the assistance of Wash- 
ington, leaving Ticonderoga in charge of Wayne, with a garrison 
of two thousand five hundred men. Congress soon after confirmed 
the trust by making Wayne a brigadier general. He remained at 
Ticonderoga during the winter, and in spring, at his own earnest 
solicitation, joined the main army. He arrived at head-quarters 
on the 15th of May, and was immediately placed at the head of a 
brigade, concerning the operations of which Washington expressed 
the liveliest expectations. The position of the American com- 



96 SELF-MADE MEN. 

mander-in-chief at Middlebrook interfered with the operations of 
the English so severely that it was determined to expulse him, if 
possible (1777). Several military stratagems were resorted to 
to draw Washington into an engagement, but he denied the en- 
emy the opportunity it sought, and remained carefully on the 
defensive. At length the British feigned a retreat, and Wash- 
ington, unwilling to lose what for a moment seemed to be an 
advantage, ordered a pursuit, under the commands of Sullivan, 
Maxwell, Wayne, and Morgan, while he, with the main army, 
was to follow in person, in case of engagements. Owing to va- 
rious causes, two, only, out of the four corps arrived in time for 
the pursuit — those commanded by Wayne and Morgan. They 
displayed great bravery and good conduct, but when it was dis- 
covered that the English general's retreat was merely a feint, 
Washington recovered his position at Middlebrook, and the pur- 
suit was, of course, abandoned. The English general retired to 
New York, and thence made preparations for a descent on Phila- 
delphia. This brings us to the period of the famous battle of 
Brandywine. 

The defense of Chad's Ford, the most accessible point on the line 
of English march, was intrusted to Wayne, who on this occasion 
had a second brigade and a portion of Proctor's artillery added to 
his command. It is not necessary for the purpose of this sketch 
to narrate the accidents of the day, or recount how the American 
army was driven from its position by the British. Wayne was the 
last to leave the field ; in fact, he did not know that the Ameri- 
can columns were broken and scattered until after sunset, when, 
being apprised of the fact, he withdrew his division. On the 
16th an engagement took place at Warren Tavern, but a violent 
shower of rain separated the combatants. The ammunition of the 
Americans having become seriously injured, an immediate retreat 
became necessary to Parker's Ferry, where a fresh supply could 
be obtained. A change of positions now took place, and Wayne 
was appointed to watch the enemy, and cut off baggage and hos- 
pital trains. On the 20th of September, at night, Wayne was 
attacked by the British forces, and, owing to the negligence or 
misapprehension of an officer, lost one hundred and fifty men. 
For this mishap he was subsequently tried by court-martial. 
After a full and patient hearing of all the testimony adduced, the 
court decided unanimously that " General Wayne was not guilty 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 97 

of the charge exhibited against him, but that on the night of the 
20th of September he did every thing that could be expected from 
an active, brave, and vigilant officer, under the orders that he then 
had, and do therefore acquit him with the highest honor." 

The British established themselves at Germantown, and Wash- 
ington conceived the bold project of routing their camp by a sur- 
prise movement. For this purpose, the American army marched 
from Skippack Creek in two columns (3d of October) ; that of 
the right composed of the divisions of Sullivan and Wayne, with 
Conway's brigade ; the column of the left composed of the divisions 
of Greene and Stephens, with M'Dougall's brigade, and fourteen 
hundred Maryland and Jersey militia. On reaching the summit of 
Chestnut Hill a brisk engagement took place. The enemy sought 
refuge in a large stone house, and established a galling fire on the 
advancing columns, but without impeding the progress of Sullivan 
and Wayne, who pressed forward and met the enemy at every point 
with prowess and success. The columns under the command of 
Greene were equally successful, and for a time every thing seemed 
to promise favorable to the American arms. On the following 
day, however, a serious reverse was experienced. We give the 
account of it in the words of Sullivan: "My division, with the 
North Carolina regiment, commanded by Colonel Armstrong, and 
a part of Conway's brigade, having driven the enemy a mile and 
a half below Chew's house, and finding themselves unsupported 
by any other troops, their cartridges all expended, the force of the 
enemy on the right collecting on the left to oppose them, being 
alarmed by the firing at Chew's house, so far in their rear, and 
by the cry of a light horseman on the right that the enemy had 
got round us, and at the same time discovering some troops fly- 
ing on the right, retired with as much precipitation as they had 
before advanced, against every effort of their officers to rally them. 
When the retreat took place, we had been engaged near three 
hours, which, with the march of the preceding night, rendered 
them almost unfit for fighting or retreating. We, however, made 
a safe retreat, though not a regular one. We brought off all our 
cannon and wounded." Washington, writing on the same subject, 
says : " In justice to the right whig of the army (composed of the 
divisions of Sullivan and Wayne), whose conduct I had an oppor- 
tunity of observing, as they acted immediately under my eye, I 
have the greatest pleasure to inform you that both the officers 

E 



98 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and men behaved with a degree of gallantry which did them the 
highest honor." 

After this lamentable defeat, Wayne was detached on a fora- 
ging expedition, and by coolness and determination succeeded in 
making valuable contributions to the scanty commissariat of the 
American army. We hasten now to that celebrated event in 
American history which owes all its lustre to the bravery of 
Wayne — we refer to the capture of Stony Point. This was one 
of the strongest positions of the enemy, and, fully aware of the 
fact, no precautions had been spared to make it impregnable. On 
two sides it was protected by the Hudson ; on the third by a 
marsh ; the remaining approach was strongly fortified, and garri- 
soned with six hundred soldiers. Wayne surveyed the place with 
a determination to find an opening, and soon took up his posi- 
tion within a mile and a half of his object. We quote the follow- 
ing account of the attack from Mr. Armstrong's sketch of the 
hero : " By the organization given to the attack, the regiments of 
Ferbiger and Meigs, with Hull's detachment, formed the column 
of the right, and the regiment of Butler and Murfey's detachment 
that of the left. A party of twenty men, furnished with axes for 
pioneer duty, and followed by a sustaining corps of one hundred 
and fifty men with unloaded arms, preceded each column, while 
a small detachment was assigned to purposes merely of demon- 
stration. At half past eleven o'clock, the hour fixed on for the 
assault, the columns were in motion ; but, from delays made in- 
evitable by the nature of the ground, it was twenty minutes after 
twelve before this commenced; when neither the morass, now 
overflowed by the tide, nor the formidable and double row of aba- 
tis, nor the high and strong works on the summit of the hill, could 
for a moment damp the ardor or stop the career of the assailants, 
who, in the face of an incessant fire of musketry, and a shower of 
shells and grape-shot, forced their way through every obstacle, 
and with so much concert of movement that both columns en- 
tered the fort and reached its centre nearly at the same moment. 
Nor was the conduct of the victors less conspicuous for humanity 
than for valor. Not a man of the garrison was injured after the 
surrender, and during the conflict of battle all were spared who 
ceased to make resistance. 

"The entire American loss in this enterprise, so formidable in 
prospect, did not exceed one hundred men. The pioneer parties, 



ANTHONY WAYNE. 99 

necessarily the most exposed, suffered most. Of the twenty men 
led by Lieutenant Gibbons, of the sixth Pennsylvania regiment, 
seventeen were killed or wounded. Wayne's own escape on this 
occasion was of the hair-breadth kind. Struck on the head by a 
musket ball, he fell ; but, immediately rising on one knee, he ex- 
claimed, ' March on ! carry me into the fort ; for, should the 
wound be mortal, I will die at the head of the column.' " 

In commemoration of this brilliant exploit, regarded by mili- 
tary writers as the most gallant and remarkable of the campaign, 
Congress directed a gold medal to be struck emblematical of the 
action. From the commander-in-chief, and from all quarters, 
Wayne received the most flattering testimonials of esteem and ad- 
miration. He was the most renowned chieftain of the day. 

In 1781, Wayne accompanied La Fayette to the South, in or- 
der to put an end to the ravages of the British in that section of 
the country. They followed closely on the tracks of Cornwallis, 
and at length heard that the main body of the British army had 
succeeded in crossing Jamestown Ferry, but that a rear guard of 
ordinary force remained behind. La Fayette determined that this 
should be cut off, if possible, and directed Wayne to advance with 
seven hundred men to effect the object. Wayne did so with his 
usual coolness and dispatch, and succeeded in driving in the ene- 
my's pickets, but, very unexpectedly, he found that he had fallen 
into a trap, and, instead of being in the neighborhood of the rear 
guard of the army, was within fifty yards of the main body. At 
this critical moment Wayne's daring came to his rescue. Instead 
of retreating in confusion, he made a bold charge, and so perplex- 
ed the enemy with the manoeuvre that he succeeded in escaping 
with a much smaller loss than would otherwise have been the 
case. Subsequently Wayne was employed in Georgia, where he 
succeeded in bringing the enemy into a state of comparative harm- 
lessness in spite of very insufficient means. The treaty of peace 
which followed the evacuation of Charleston enabled Wayne to 
return to his own fireside in Pennsylvania, after an absence of 
seven years. Soon after he was elected a member of the Council 
of Censors, and subsequently to a seat in the Convention to re- 
vise and amend the Constitution of the State. He was not, how- 
ever, destined to a long civil career. Although the war with En- 
gland was at an end, the Indians still continued their depreda- 
tions and hostilities. Two unsuccessful attempts had been made 



100 SELF-MADE MEN. 

to subdue them. It was now determined to organize an army suf- 
ficiently powerful to act with vigor, and leave the rest with Gen- 
eral Wayne, to whom the command was intrusted. 

Wayne began his march from a camp near the site of the pres- 
ent town of Cincinnati, and on the 8th of August, 1794, reached 
the Indian settlements, the destruction of which formed the first 
object of the enterprise. On the 19th, after repeated attempts to 
bring the savages peaceably to terms, the army marched on to the 
position taken by the Indians, a strong one naturally and arti- 
ficially, and protected with two thousand of their best fighting 
men. Wayne's advanced guard was briskly attacked from a 
thicket, made up of tall grass and underwood, and in a few min- 
utes the action commenced. The Indians and Canadians were 
routed with great loss. "We remained," says General Wayne, 
in his dispatch, " three days and nights on the banks of the Mi- 
ami, in front of the field of battle, during which time all the 
houses and corn were consumed, or otherwise destroyed for a con- 
siderable distance both above and below Fort Miami ; and we 
were within pistol-shot of the garrison of that place, who were 
compelled to remain quiet spectators of this general devastation 
and conflagration." This severe but necessary treatment was 
pursued until the enemy sued for peace. A treaty was at once 
drawn up, and the war brought to a satisfactory termination. 
Complimentary resolutions were unanimously passed by the Con- 
gress then in session, and President and people alike vied in the 
cordial expression of their gratitude to a noble old warrior newly 
returned from the wars. 

The last mark of confidence which General Wayne received 
from the government was his appointment as commissioner for 
treating with the Northwestern Indians, and as receiver of the 
military posts given up by the British government. The duties 
attached to these offices he discharged in his usual punctual man- 
ner, and proceeded from the West on his way homeward. While 
descending Lake Erie from Detroit, he was attacked by the gout 
with such severity that in a few days his life and his labors were 
brought to a sudden termination. His remains were temporarily 
buried on the shore of the lake, but in 1809 they were removed 
to the cemetery of St. David's Church, in Chester County, Penn- 
sylvania. A monument recalling the patriotic achievements of 
his life was placed over the grave, and still marks the spot where 
lie the remains of a true warrior natriot. 



EMMANUEL KANT. 

Emmanuel Kant, the illustrious founder of the philosophical 
school which succeeded that of Liebnitz, was a native of Konigs- 
berg, in Prussia, where he was born on the 22d of April, 1724. 
His father was a saddler, and of Scotch descent. The elder Kant 
is described as a man of superior intelligence and inflexible moral 
character. His wife was an estimable woman, pious and devoted 
in her ministrations. " I never," said Emmanuel Kant, " saw or 
heard in my father's family any thing inconsistent with honor, pro- 
priety, or truth." From his earliest days he was thus placed on 
the right path. Bred in the love of truth, and with such examples 
of moral worth before him, it is not remarkable that he became 
eminent for his good life as for his great mind. 

At the proper age he received the usual instruction of the com- 
mon schools, and as he displayed diligence and capacity, it was 
determined that his studies should be continued in the higher 
seminaries. Here he pursued a peaceful course of severe, sys- 
tematic, and persevering study. He learned all that could be 
learned in the circle of language, history, and science. He car- 
ried into each department of this extensive field that scrutinizing 
spirit and that avidity for knowledge which afford no rest to the 
mind until it has explored the whole surface of the ground and 
examined its nature, sounded its depth, ascertained the limits of 
the portion already cultivated, and determined what yet remains 
to be accomplished. 

Kant's life was purely scholastic. His intellectual career began 
and ended at the University. For his offices and his fortune he 
was indebted solely to the usual course of academic advancement. 
Pie supported himself first as a teacher in private families ; in 
1755 he became doctor of philosophy, and for fifteen years was 
only one of the privatim docentes without salary, although his lec- 
tures were much frequented ; in 1766 he was made under-libra- 
rian, with a miserable support, and obtained at last, in 1770, the 
chair of professor of logic and metaphysics. In 1786-88 he was 
rector of the University; in 1787 inscribed among the members 



102 SELF-MADE MEN. 

of the Academy of Berlin, and died without seeing any dignity 
added to his title of professor, excepting that of Senior of the 
Philosophical Faculty. This was his worldly career, and con- 
cerning it Madame de Stael has remarked that there is scarcely 
another example, except among the Greeks, of a life so rigorously 
philosophical. He lived to a great age, and never once quitted 
the snows of murky Konigsberg. There he passed a calm and 
happy existence, meditating, professing, and writing. He had 
mastered all the sciences; he had studied languages, and culti- 
vated literature. He lived and died a type of the German pro- 
fessor : he rose, smoked, took his coffee, wrote, lectured, and took 
his daily walk at precisely the same hour. The Cathedral clock, 
it was said, was not more punctual in its movements than Em- 
manuel Kant. Mathematics and physics principally occupied his 
attention at first, and the success with which he pursued these 
studies was soon made manifest in various publications. He be- 
came renowned as a profound logician and natural philosopher. 
An instance of his wonderful powers of speculative reasoning and 
deduction was the prediction of the existence of the planet Uranus 
long before it was known by astronomers. He argued that it should 
be in a certain position, and Herschel, whose attention was thus 
directed to the subject, found it there. Other conjectures on the 
system of the world, the Milky Way, the nebulae, the ring of Sat- 
urn, were also confirmed by the same eminent astronomer thirty 
years after they had been uttered by the illustrious subject of this 
sketch. 

Kant's fame as the greatest philosopher and metaphysician of the 
age dates from the publication of his " Critique of Pure Reason" 
(1781), an examination of the faculty of knowledge, of the powers 
which concur in its exercise, of their laws, of the play of their 
operations, and of the effects thence resulting for man, relatively 
to the impressions which he receives, to the judgments which he 
makes, to the conceptions which he forms, and to the ideas to 
which reason elevates itself. This work was the product of 
twelve years' meditation, although written in five months. The 
novelty of its views, the toughness of its terminology and style, 
for some time obscured its real value. When it became known, 
all Germany went wild with the new philosophy. Almost every 
" chair" was filled by a Kantist. Endless books and pamphlets 
came from the press, defending or attacking the principles of the 



EMMANUEL KANT. 103 

critical philosophy. Kant had likened himself to Copernicus ; 
his disciples likened him both to Copernicus and Newton. He 
had not only changed the whole science of metaphysics, as Co- 
pernicus had changed the science of astronomy, but had also con- 
summated the science he had originated. Kant published many 
other works, in the smallest of which the profoundest meditations 
are to be found. 

He became famous, and had to endure the penalty of popular- 
ity. Bores from all parts of the world broke in upon his privacy. 
It was with the greatest reluctance that he satisfied the curiosity 
of his visitors, for he was modest and simple to a fault. In the 
latter part of his life he would only show himself for a few min- 
utes at the door of his study, and express to his visitors his aston- 
ishment at their curiosity. He would then return to his private 
friends and say, " I have seen to-day some noble virtuosi." He 
never spoke of his philosophy ; and while it was the subject of 
conversation among the most enlightened men in all the countries 
where the language and literature of Germany prevail, from his 
house it was entirely banished. It is said that he hardly ever 
read any of the works in which, during twenty years, his principles 
(we have refrained from referring to them on account of the utter 
impossibility of merely indicating their scope in a brief article) 
were attacked, defended, developed, and applied to all the branches 
of human knowledge. 

The greatest enjoyment of the latter years of his life was to 
invite to his table a few intimate friends, and discuss with them 
the events of the French Revolution, in which he took great in- 
terest. His gay and instructive conversation was in the highest 
degree delightful. His manners were simple and pure. Owing 
to the smallness of his income, he was unable to take upon himself 
the responsibilities of a wife and family, although he was far from 
Joeing indifferent to the charms and graces of the opposite sex. 

On the 24th of February, 1804, this intellectual giant passed 
to the land of shadows. He was fully conscious of the approach- 
ing dissolution, and nearly the last words he uttered were these : 
" I do not fear death ; I know how to die. I assure you, before 
God, that if I knew that this night was to be my last, I would 
raise my hands and say, God be praised. The case would be 
far different if I had ever caused the misery of any one of his 
creatures." 



104 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Kant was of small stature, and fine, delicate complexion. He 
was distinguished by the strictest veracity, and by an extreme at- 
tention to avoid every thing which could give pain, if the inter- 
ests of truth did not require it. He was affable, benevolent with- 
out ostentation, and thankful for any attentions which he received. 
During his last illness he was frequently so much moved by the 
attentions of an old male servant, that it was with the greatest 
difficulty the latter could prevent his master from kissing his 
hand. It was discovered after his death that, although a poor 
man all his life, he had been in the habit of dispensing more than 
eleven hundred florins annually out of his small earnings to poor 
relations and indigent families. 

" Such," says Professor Stapfer (to whom we are indebted for 
the materials of this sketch), "was the extraordinary man who 
has agitated the human mind to a greater depth than any of the 
philosophers of the same rank before him. The opinions on the 
permanent result of his analysis of the human faculties are natu- 
rally exceedingly diverse. His faithful disciples — of whom the 
number, it is true, is much diminished — regard him as the New- 
ton, or, at least, the Kepler of the intellectual world. - Beyond 
his own school, many ascribe to his principles that revival of pa- 
triotic and generous sentiments, that return of vigor of mind, and 
that disinterested zeal, which have of late years manifested them- 
selves in Germany, so much to the honor of the nation, to the 
success of her independence, and advantage of the moral sciences. 
A numerous party accuse him of having created a barbarous term- 
inology, making unnecessary innovations for the purpose of envel- 
oping himself in an obscurity almost impenetrable — of having pro- 
duced systems absurd and dangerous, and increased the uncer- 
tainty respecting the most important interests of man ; of having, 
by the illusion of talent, turned the attention of youth from posi- 
tive studies to consume their time in vain speculations ; of hav- 
ing, by his transcendental idealism, conducted his rigidly conse- 
quent disciples, some to absolute idealism, others to skepticism, 
others, again, to a new species of Spinosism, and all to systems 
equally absurd and dangerous. They farther accuse his doctrine 
of being in itself a tissue of extravagant hypothesis and contra- 
dictory theories, of which the result is to make us regard man as 
a creature discordant and fantastic. They accuse him, finally, of 
having, by his demanding more than stoical efforts, produced in 



. EMMANUEL KANT. 105 

the rnind discouragement and uncertainty, much more than the 
germs of active virtue, confidence, and security. There is, un- 
doubtedly, exaggeration in both these extreme opinions. The 
disciples of Socrates departed still farther from his doctrines than 
those of Kant have from the principles of criticism; yet who will 
deny the merit of Socrates, or his salutary influence ?" 

E 2 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE. 

Johann Gottlieb Fichte was the son of a poor peasant couple 
who resided at Rammeneau, in Upper Lusatia, Prussia, where he 
was born on the 19th of May, 1762. From his earliest infancy 
he gave indications of unusual mental capacity and great moral 
energy, for both of which he was afterward famous. He was a 
precocious child, and long before he was old enough to be sent to 
school had learned many things from his father, who taught him 
to read and to remember the pious songs and proverbs which 
formed his own simple stock of erudition. He was not much be- 
yond his simple station, but he had traveled in Saxony and Fran- 
conia, and had observed the manners and customs of the people, 
and was especially well informed in their fables and romances. 
These he would recite to the little Johann as he sat in the warm 
sunshine listening with eagerness to all that was wonderful and 
strange. When left to himself he would wander in the fields, 
leaving his boisterous companions in order that he might turn 
over in his own mind all that he had heard. Probably he 
dreamed of unspeakable joys in roaming free and happy through 
the world, and seeing and remembering every thing. Whatever 
were his meditations, he loved solitude, and would stand for hours 
gazing into the far distance, and dreaming methodically, like a 
young philosopher, of what might be. At home he read the fam- 
ily prayers with so much feeling and propriety, that his father 
fondly hoped he might one day see him in the pulpit. An event 
curious in itself, and very important in its influence on his sub- 
sequent career, soon occurred, which favored that hope, and went 
far to realize it. But, before we relate it, we must give a touch- 
ing anecdote, which exhibits Fichte's heroic self-command in a 
very interesting light. 

The first book which fell into his hands after the Bible and 
Catechism was the renowned history of " Siegfried the Horned," 
and it seized so powerfully on his imagination that he lost all 
pleasure in any other employment, became careless and neglect- 
ful, and for the first time in his life was punished. Then, in the 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE. 107 

spirit of the injunction which tells us to cut off our right hand if 
it cause us to offend, Fichte resolved to sacrifice the beloved book, 
and, taking it in his hand, walked slowly to a stream flowing past 
the house, with the intention of throwing it in. Long he linger- 
ed on the bank ere he could muster courage for this first self- 
conquest of his life ; but at length, summoning all his resolution, 
he flung it into the water. His fortitude gave way as he saw the 
treasure, too dearly loved, floating away forever, and he burst into 
a passionate flood of tears. Just at this moment the father ar- 
rived on the spot, and the weeping child told what he had done, 
but, either from timidity or incapacity to explain his feelings, was 
silent as to his true motive. Irritated at this treatment of his 
present, Fichte's father inflicted upon him an unusually severe 
punishment ; and tins occurrence formed a fitting prelude to his 
after-life, in which he was so often misunderstood, and the ac- 
tions springing from the purest convictions of duty were exactly 
those for which he had most to suffer. When a sufficient time 
had elapsed for the offense to be in some measure forgotten, the 
father brought home another of these seducing books ; but Fichte 
dreaded being again exposed to the temptation, and begged that 
it might rather be given to some of the other children. 

It was about this time that the other event before alluded to 
occurred. The clergyman of the village, who had taken a fancy 
to Gottlieb, and had often assisted in his instruction, happened one 
day to ask him how much he thought he could remember of the 
sermon of the preceding day. Fichte made the attempt, and, to 
the astonishment of the pastor, succeeded in giving a very tolera- 
ble account of the course of argument, as well as the texts quoted 
in its illustration. The circumstance was mentioned to the Count 
von Hoffmansegg, the lord of the village ; and when one day an- 
other nobleman, the Baron von Mittie, who was on a visit to the 
castle, happened to express his regret at having been too late for 
the sermon on the Sunday morning, he was told, half in jest, that 
it was of little consequence, for that there was a boy in the vil- 
lage who could repeat it all from memory. Little Gottlieb was 
sent for, and soon arrived in a clean smock frock, and bearing a 
large nosegay, such as his mother was accustomed to send to the 
castle occasionally as a token of respect. He answered the first 
questions put to him with his accustomed quiet simplicity ; but 
when asked to repeat as much as he could recollect of the mornr 



108 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ing's sermon, his voice and manner became more animated, and, 
as he proceeded, entirely forgetting the presence of the formida- 
ble company, he became so fervid and abundant in his eloquence 
that the count thought it necessary to interrupt him, lest the play- 
ful tone of the circle should be destroyed by the serious subjects 
of the sermon. The young preacher had, however, made some 
impression on his auditory ; the baron made inquiries concerning 
him ; and the clergyman, wishing for nothing more than an oppor- 
tunity to serve his favorite, gave such an account that the baron 
determined to undertake the charge of his education. The next 
day the young Gottlieb was on his way to the Castle of Sieben- 
eichen, in Saxony, near Meissen, on the Elbe. One of his most 
ardent desires, namely, to travel, was about to be gratified. Like 
many other pleasures in this world, it was more of the imagina- 
tion than experience. Visions of his own peaceful home, and of 
the kind friends he had left there, crowded upon him, and his 
heart sunk within him as the distance lengthened. The melan- 
choly grandeur of the baronial halls to which he was transported 
did not add to his peace of mind. He became thoroughly wretch- 
ed — so deeply dejected that his health began to fail. Fortunate- 
ly, his noble patron was a man of sense and delicacy. He traced 
the cause of the boy's ailings to the right source, and in a kindly 
and liberal spirit removed him from the cold shadow of the castle 
to the domestic circle of a neighboring clergyman. Once more 
within the influence of moral precept and support, his spirits re- 
vived rapidly. Some of the happiest years of his life were passed 
beneath the roof of this estimable man and his admirable spouse, 
toward whom Fichte always preserved the warmest affection and 
gratitude. They treated him as if he were their son, and as such 
he remembered them. 

It was here that he received his first instruction in the learned 
languages, When his kind preceptor could teach him no more, 
he was transferred to the High School at Meissen, and afterward 
to the seminary at Schulpforte. The monastic gloom of the latter 
establishment, added to many unpleasant customs which prevailed 
among the pupils, filled him once more with melancholy. He shed 
tears plentifully, and was jeered at contemptuously by his compan- 
ions. Sensibility is not an ordinary weakness of schoolboys, and 
in a large public establishment where flogging prevails, it is brought 
flown to its lowest standard. Fichte, who was yet but thirteei^ 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE. 109 

years of age, felt every unkind word most acutely. It was in vain 
that he looked for a kindred spirit to pour balmy consolation into 
his bleeding wounds. It was natural, therefore, that the idea of 
escape should occur to his mind. The dread, however, of being 
retaken and brought back again in disgrace made him pause. 
While brooding over this project, it happened that he met with a 
copy of "Robinson Crusoe" — that thing of beauty, that joy for- 
ever to the youthful world. His enthusiasm was now unbounded. 
No longer would he hesitate. He would flee to the desert, and 
make it his dwelling-place — selecting the desert, probably, on 
account of the advantages it offered of seeing any one who might 
happen to be in pursuit. The manner in which he carried this 
curious idea into execution was remarkable. Nothing could have 
been easier than for him to have taken his departure unperceived 
on one of the days when the scholars were allowed to go to the 
playground, but he scorned to steal away in secret ; he would 
have the matter appear as the result of necessity and calm determ- 
ination. He therefore made a formal declaration to his superior, 
a tyrannous lad who had much abused his brief authority, that 
he would no longer endure the treatment he received, but would 
leave the place at the first opportunity. The announcement was 
of course received with jeers and laughter, which only added to 
Fichte's determination. He then procured a map, and carefully 
studied the route which he proposed to take. Having made him- 
self master of this, he found his opportunity, and set off on foot 
in the direction of the town of Naumburg. As he walked, how- 
ever, he bethought himself of a saying of his dear old pastor, that 
one should never begin an important undertaking without asking 
the blessing of Heaven. He dropped on his knees by the road 
side, and implored the Divine assistance with tears in his eyes. 
While thus engaged, the thought flashed across his mind that his 
absence would occasion much grief to his parents — that he might 
never, perhaps, see them more. He was so overcome with this ter- 
rible thought that he resolved to retrace his steps, and meet all the 
punishments that might be in store for him, " that he might look 
once more on the face of his mother." God had hearkened to the 
prayer of the innocent, and guided his footsteps. 

The school was already in an uproar, and scouts were out in ev- 
ery direction in pursuit of the runaway. He was immediately 
carried before the rector, and at once confessed that he had intend- 



110 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ed to escape. With child-like simplicity and frankness he related 
the whole story, his hesitation, and the cause of his return. The 
rector not only remitted his punishment, but became his friend, 
and placed him under another master, who treated him with ex- 
treme kindness. 

He continued his studies until he was sufficiently advanced to 
become a candidate for holy orders. Unfortunately, at this crit- 
ical epoch, his generous patron, the baron, died, and all hopes of 
becoming a clergyman were at an end. It became necessary that 
he should go out in the world and seek his own way in it. For- 
tunately, he was offered the situation of private tutor to a family 
in Switzerland. He at once closed with the parties, and for two 
years discharged the irksome duties incidental to the position he 
had taken. He then proceeded to Leipsic, where he gave lessons 
in Greek and philosophy, and for the first time became acquainted 
with the writings of Kant. This was an important event in his 
life, and threw him into raptures. " I have been living," he writes, 
" for the last four or five months in Leipsic the happiest life I can 
remember. I came here with my head full of grand projects, which 
all burst one after another, like so many soap-bubbles, without 
leaving me so much as the froth. At first this troubled me a lit- 
tle, and, half in despair, I took a step which I ought to have taken 
long before. Since I could not alter what was without me, I re- 
solved to alter what was within. I threw myself into philosophy 
— the Kantian, videlicet — and here I found the true antidote for 
all my evils, and joy enough into the bargain. The influence 
which this philosophy, particularly the ethical part of it (which, 
however, is unintelligible without a previous study of the "Critique 
of Pure Reason"), has had upon my whole system of thought, the 
revolution which it has effected in my mind, is not to be described. 
To you, especially, I owe the declaration that I now believe with 
my whole heart in free-will, and that I see that under this sup- 
position alone can duty, virtue, and morality have any existence. 
From the opposite proposition, of the necessity of all human ac- 
tions, must flow the most injurious consequences to society, and 
it may, in fact, be in part the source of the corrupt morals of the 
higher classes which we hear so much of. Should any one adopt- 
ing it remain virtuous, we must look for the cause of this purity 
elsewhere than in the innocuousness of the doctrine. With many 
it is their want of logical consequence in their actions. 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE 111 

" I am, furthermore, well convinced that this life is not the land 
of enjoyment, but of labor and toil, and that every joy is granted 
to us but to strengthen us for further exertion ; that the manage- 
ment of our own fate is by no means required of us, but only self- 
culture. I trouble myself, therefore, not at all concerning the 
things that are without; I endeavor not to appear, but to he. 
And to this, perhaps, I owe the deep tranquillity I enjoy. My 
external position, however, is well enough suited to such a frame 
of mind: I am no man's master, and no man's slave. As to 
prospects, I have none at all, for the constitution of the Church 
here does not suit me, nor, to say the truth, that of the people 
either. As long as I can maintain my present independence, I 
shall certainly do so." 

Fichte's enthusiasm for Kant induced him to pay a visit to- the 
eminent philosopher at Konigsberg. Instead of a letter of intro- 
duction, he presented Kant with a work written in eight days, 
called "A Critique of every possible Revelation." Kant imme- 
diately recognized the merits of the production, and became his 
friend. He was too poor to assist him in a material point of view 
— and Fichte sorely needed assistance — but he promised to obtain 
him a publisher for his " Critique," and otherwise treated him 
hospitably and kindly. 

In due time the " Critique" made its appearance. There was 
no name on the title-page, and every one said it was the produc- 
tion of Kant. When it became known that Fichte was the author, 
he was at once placed in the highest ranks of philosophy. The 
celebrity he acquired was the means of procuring him the chair 
of philosophy at Jena (1793), the leading university of Germany. 

Fichte now fondly believed that his wanderings and his priva- 
tions were at an end, and that henceforth he could devote him- 
self to philosophy without interruption from the external world. 
He was mistaken. Even at Jena he found himself soon oppos- 
ing and opposed. His endeavors to instill a higher moral feeling 
into the students, his anxiety for their better culture, were mis- 
understood. A cry of Atheism was raised against the professor 
— an unjust cry, but not without its effects. The government 
required some kind of explanation from the philosopher. He re- 
fused to give it, tendered his resignation, and recommenced his 
wanderings. He found an asylum in Prussia, where he occupied 
the chair at Erlangen, and afterward at Berlin. From his career 



112 SELF-MADE MEN, 

in the latter place the following incident is related by one of his 
biographers (Mr. Lewes) : 

"It is 1813. The students are assembled in crowds to hear 
their favorite professor, who is to lecture that day upon duty — 
on that duty whose ideal grandeur his impassioned eloquence has 
revealed to them. Fichte arrives, calm and modest. He lectures 
with his usual dignified calmness, rising into fiery bursts of elo- 
quence, but governed by the same marvelous rigor of logic as be- 
fore. He leads them from the topic to the present state of af- 
fairs. On them he grows still more animated, the rolling of 
drums without frequently drowning his voice, and giving him 
fresh spirit. He points to the bleeding wounds of his country ; 
he warms with hatred against oppressors ; and enforces it as the 
duty of every one to lend his single arm to save his country. 

" ' This course of lectures,' he exclaims, ' will be suspended till 
the end of the campaign. We will resume them in a free coun- 
try, or die in the attempt to recover her freedom.' Loud shouts 
respondent ring through the hall ; clapping of hands and stamp- 
ing of feet make answer to the rolling drums without ; every Ger- 
man heart there present is moved as at the sound of a trumpet. 
Fichte descends, passes through the crowd, and places himself in 
the ranks of a corps of volunteers then departing for the army. 
It is the commencement of the memorable campaign of 1813." 

Throughout this struggle for liberty Fichte took an active part, 
and was nobly assisted by his wife. The hospitals of the city 
were filled with the sick and the wounded ; they became at length 
unequal to the demands made upon them, and the authorities, 
through the public journals, called on the inhabitants to come to 
their assistance with money, and with women to take charge of 
the sick. Fichte's wife was one of the earliest to volunteer in 
the good cause. She devoted her days to the distribution of 
clothes, food, and medicine, and to pious cares around the beds 
of the unknown sick and dying ; and after she returned late on a 
winter's evening to her home, often again went out to collect con- 
tributions from her friends and acquaintances. 

For five months she devoted herself in this noble way to the 
service of the helpless and wretched. In January, 1814, from 
want of sleep or other causes, alarming symptoms began to man- 
ifest themselves, and soon after she was attacked with a danger- 
ous nervous fever. It soon attained such a height as to leave 



JOHANN GOTTLIEB FICHTE. 113 

scarce a hope of recovery ; and on the very day when she was in 
the greatest peril, Fichte, who had been engaged in close and anx- 
ious attendance upon her during her illness, was compelled to 
leave her, to deliver the first of a course of philosophical lectures, 
which he had now recommenced. With wonderful self-command, 
he continued to speak for two hours on the most abstract sub- 
jects, scarcely hoping to find, on his return, his beloved compan- 
ion still alive. This was, however, the crisis of her illness, and 
those who witnessed the transports of joy and gratitude with 
which he hailed the symptoms of recovery were able to estimate 
the power of self-control he had exercised. It was probably at 
that moment that, innocently and unconsciously, she communi- 
cated to him the fatal infection. On the following day the com- 
mencement of a serious indisposition was evident, but Fichte 
could not be induced to relax any of his customary exertions. 
The continued sleeplessness, however, soon produced its usual ef- 
fect on his mental faculties, and in the course of fourteen days 
the attack terminated fatally. 

Thus passed away the amiable spirit of one of the great think- 
ers of the age — a man who shed on the country of his birth not 
only intellectual splendor, but rays of moral worth that will burn 
and glow on the nation's brow when much that is purely philo- 
sophical shall be forgotten. 

"So robust an intellect," says Mr. Thomas Carlyle, in one of 
his tempestuous bursts of enthusiasm, " a soul so calm, so lofty, 
massive, and immovable, has not mingled in philosophical discus- 
sion since the time of Luther ; for the man rises before us, amid 
contradiction and debate, like a granite mountain amid clouds 
and winds. Ridicule of the best that could be commanded has 
been already tried against him, but it could not avail. What was 
the wit of a thousand wits to him. The cry of a thousand choughs 
assaulting that old cliff of granite. Seen from the summit, these, 
as they winged the midway air, showed scarce so gross as beetles, 
and their cry was seldom even audible. Fichte' s opinions may 
be true or false, but his character as a thinker can be slightly 
valued only by those who know it ill ; and as a man approved by 
action and suffering in his life and in his death, he ranks with a 
class of men who were common only in better ages than ours." 




DAVID KITTENHOUSE. 

David Rittenhouse, whose scientific eminence characterized a 
period of our history when such eminence was uncommon in the 
most advanced circles of the world, was born at Germantown, 
Pennsylvania, on the 8th of April, 1732. His parents were of 
Dutch descent, and emigrated to the New World at an early pe- 
riod of its history. Concerning David's education and youth we 
have no satisfactory information. It has been supposed that he 
received some tuition from a humble relative, a joiner by trade, 
who lived in the house of Eittenhouse, and died there. This rela- 
tive appears to have been a superior man, for among his papers 
were discovered some elementary treatises on mathematics and as- 
tronomy, and numerous manuscripts containing calculations and 
investigations. When he died David was in his twelfth year, and 
the books and papers were treasures to him, which, even then, he 
appreciated. The barns and fences about the farm, and even the 
implements of industry, were covered with diagrams and figures 
by the young mathematician. 

When David was nineteen years of age (1751), he made the 



DAVID RITTENHOUSE. 115 

acquaintance of the Eev. Thomas Barton, a well-informed clergy- 
man of the Episcopal Church. This gentleman was astonished 
at the intelligence and natural aptitude of young Eittenhouse, 
and, being but a few years older, a strong intimacy sprung up 
between them, cemented subsequently by the marriage of Mr. 
Barton to a sister of David's. Under the auspices of this gentle- 
man, Eittenhouse obtained a satisfactory knowledge of the Latin 
language, and a rudimental acquaintance with the Greek. In ad- 
dition to these valuable acquirements, Mr. Barton assisted David 
in his mathematical studies, and added to his knowledge by judi- 
cious loans of books. 

Eittenhouse had no inclination toward agriculture, and chose 
the profession of clock-maker, as more in accordance with his 
tastes and predilections. His first store was erected on his fa- 
ther's farm (1751), where he turned out some unusually good 
work, and made some important improvements in the rude time- 
pieces of that day. For seven years he devoted himself to the 
philosophical pursuit of this business, but was compelled for a 
time to abandon it on account of ill health. A short period of 
relaxation restored him, but the intense and unremitting attention 
he paid to every thing laid the foundation of a complaint which 
compelled him later in life to abandon the business to which he 
had so enthusiastically devoted himself. He became noted for 
the excellence of his workmanship, and the philosophical accuracy 
with which he examined and perfected his instruments and pieces. 
He made many acquaintances, and some friends ; among the latter 
were Dr. Smith, provost of the College of Philadelphia, and John 
Lukens, surveyor general of the province. The unusual capacity 
of Eittenhouse' s mind became known to them, and on the first 
opportunity they availed themselves of his high philosophical and 
astronomical attainments. The boundary-lines of Pennsylvania, 
Delaware, and Maryland were at that time subjects of much dis- 
cussion and litigation. They existed merely on paper, and had 
never been determined by actual survey. The governor of the 
province of Pennsylvania was therefore directed to seek out a 
competent person to trace the lines on the ground, and thus settle 
all causes of complaint and dispute. For this important and ex- 
tremely difficult task Mr. Eittenhouse was selected (1763), and he 
performed it so much to the satisfaction of his employers, that he 
was proffered and received more than the stipulated compensa- 



116 SELF-MADE MEN. 

tion. What was even a greater compliment was the fact that the 
British commissioners — two eminent astronomers, Messrs. Mason 
and Dixon — corroborated the accuracy of Mr. Rittenhouse's cal- 
culations. Subsequently he was employed in denning the limits 
of nearly all the thirteen original states. He was probably" the 
only American capable of doing so in those days. 

In 1767, the College of Philadelphia conferred on Mr. Ritten- 
house the honorary degree of Master of Arts as a reward for a 
number of ingenious inventions which he introduced in the con- 
struction of time-pieces, and which were intended to counteract 
the atmospheric influence on the metals composing their works. 
His clocks were celebrated not only for unusual accuracy, but for 
great elegance. They were supplied with apparatus for striking 
the hours and the chimes, and sometimes musical pieces. Among 
other embellishments, he adapted to one of his time-keepers a small 
planetary machine, in which the mean motions of the bodies of the 
solar system were made to keep their proper rate with the time 
marked by the instrument. While perfecting this toy, his atten- 
tion was directed to a more perfect instrument, and he projected 
an orrery, differing in many important respects from the machines 
commonly designated by that name, and much more philosophical 
and ingenious. 

The year 1769 was famous among astronomers by the recur- 
rence of that rare phenomenon, the transit of the planet Venus 
over the sun's disk. (A similar event will take place, it is calcu- 
lated, in 1874.) In all parts of the world, men of eminence in the 
sciences were on the alert, and more than usual on account of the 
failure of the observations of 1761, when a similar event took 
place, and gave rise to a vast number of contradictions. The 
anxiety was enhanced by the fact that but a small part of the 
transit of 1769 was to be visible at any of the great observatories 
of Europe. At Stockholm, London, Paris, Lisbon, and Madrid, 
the immersion might be seen just before sunset, and the emersion 
at St. Petersburg soon after sunrise on the following morning, but 
at no other European capital. In the northern frozen zone, be- 
yond the latitude of sixty-seven and a half degrees, the sun was 
not to set on the day of the transit ; the whole of the phenomenon 
would therefore be visible ; and at Wardhuys, in Lapland, where 
the observation would be included between the hours of half past 
nine in the afternoon and three in the morning, the circumstances 



DAVID RITTENHOUSE. 117 

would be the most favorable possible. In less high northern lati- 
tudes, near the same meridian, the beginning might occur before 
sunset, and the end take place after sunrise. The British astron- 
omers were perfectly aware of these facts, and dispatched their 
expeditions to all quarters of the globe. But they overlooked 
one very important circumstance, namely, that a much better po- 
sition for making observations could be found in Pennsylvania. 
Rittenhouse, alive ot this fact, communicated to the Philosophi- 
cal Society of Philadelphia a calculation of the anticipated times 
and phenomena of the transit, as likely to be visible at Norriton, 
and set about preparing instruments for his own observations. 
The society was fully sensible of the importance of the occasion, 
and appointed a large and well-informed committee to attend to 
it, of which Rittenhouse was of course one. Three places of ob- 
servation were selected — the State House Square of Philadelphia ; 
Cape Henlopen, at the mouth of the Delaware ; and Norriton, the 
residence of Rittenhouse. At the latter station, Provost Smith 
and Mr. Lukens were detailed to assist Mr. Rittenhouse. Liberal 
aid was extended to the operators, and the best instruments that 
could be obtained supplied. Rittenhouse, however, was left to 
prepare and furnish his own observatory — probably out of defer- 
ence to his own mechanical and philosophical skill. He erected 
a suitable building, and furnished it with an apparatus from his 
own hands, with the exceptions of an instrument for determining 
the latitude, which was supplied by an associate, and a micrometer 
and telescope sent out by Mr. Penn. All the preliminary arrange- 
ments were intrusted to Rittenhouse ; and so assiduously did he 
apply himself to the task, that, when the morning arrived, his 
anxiety and exhaustion were so great that he could scarcely ap- 
ply himself to the close and serious matter of observation. The 
morning of the expected day, however, says Dr. Renwick, in his 
excellent sketch, broke without a cloud, and not even a floating 
wreath of vapor appeared to interfere with the observations. 
Exhilarated by the favorable state of the atmosphere, and stimu- 
lated by the near approach of the time when he was to reap the 
fruit of his long and patient labors, excitement supplied the place 
of strength. But when the contact had been observed, and the 
planet had entered fairly upon the disk of the sun, his bodily 
strength was exhausted, and he sunk fainting to the ground, un- 
able to bear the intense feelings of delight which attended the 



118 SELF-MADE MEN. 

accomplishment of his wishes. He, however, speedily recovered, 
and proceeded to perform the measures of the distances between 
the centres of the two bodies at proper intervals during the con- 
tinuance of the transit. 

The calculations which were the necessary results of these ob- 
servations were made by Rittenhouse, and published by the Phil- 
osophical Society of Philadelphia. "When they reached Europe, 
they corroborated the calculations of the most famous astrono- 
mers, and upset the theory of the old school that the sun was but 
eighty millions of miles from the earth, placing the distance at 
ninety-six millions. The learned men of the Old World did not 
hesitate to award to Rittenhouse the highest meed of praise, and 
one accomplished judge declared that no learned society in Eu- 
rope " could at the moment boast of a member possessing the va- 
rious merits of Rittenhouse, who united, in his own person, tact 
as an observer, theoretic skill as a calculator, and practical talent 
as a constructer of instruments." 

During the same year Rittenhouse was engaged in observing 
the transit of Mercury, and his calculations were again so perfect 
that the longitude of places on the American continent were for 
fifty years determined by them. 

These elevated occupations did not entirely divert his attention 
from his workshop ; he still dwelt on the subject of a perfect or- 
rery with devotion, and occupied all his leisure moments in fin- 
ishing one on a new plan. It was at length completed, and be- 
came the property of the institution at Princeton, in whose cabi- 
net it may still be found. Rittenhouse refers to it in the follow- 
ing words : "I did not design a machine which should give to 
the ignorant in astronomy a first view of the solar system, but 
would rather astonish the skillful and curious examiner by a most 
accurate correspondence between the situations and motions of 
our little representatives of the heavenly bodies and the situa- 
tions and motions of those bodies themselves. I would have my 
orrery really useful, by making it capable of informing us truly of 
the astronomic phenomena for any particular point of time, which 
I do not find that any orrery yet made can do." The mechanism 
by which this is accomplished is described by competent judges 
as truly wonderful. A duplicate of this machine was subsequent- 
ly executed for the College of Philadelphia. 

In 1770, Rittenhouse took up his residence in the city of Phil- 



DAVID RITTENHOUSE. 119 

adelphia, having been invited to make that capital his home. In 
the following year he was elected one of the secretaries of the 
American Philosophical Society. In 1775, a scheme was set on 
foot to establish a public observatory in Philadelphia, under the 
direction of Kittenhouse, but, owing to the political agitations of 
the time, it was abandoned. The contest for freedom was now 
at hand, and Rittenhouse enrolled himself on the popular side, al- 
though he did not immediately take any part in the public meet- 
ings and deliberations. The modest integrity and wisdom of his 
life, however, pointed him out as a fitting object of public trust, 
and in 1775, when Franklin was called to the Provincial Assem- 
bly of Pennsylvania, Kittenhouse was elected to fill his seat in the 
General Congress. When the old government was dissolved, he 
was chosen a member of the Convention called for the purpose of 
framing a Constitution, and also of the Committee of Public Safe- 
ty. In 1776 he was unanimously elected to the responsible and 
laborious office of State Treasurer, and was annually re-elected, 
until he declined any longer to hold office. When the city fell 
into the hands of the British, the responsibilities and dangers of 
this appointment were of the most oppressive kind, but by activ- 
ity and firmness Eittenhouse discharged them to the satisfaction 
of eveiy one. One cause of very great anxiety to him was the 
rumor that his two orreries had been destroyed by the enemy. 
This proved to be unfounded. The British commanders respect- 
ed the work of art, and took effectual means to preserve its safety. 

After the close of hostilities against Great Britain, Mr. Ritten- 
house was engaged in settling the boundaries of Pennsylvania and 
Virginia by astronomical observations of the longitudinal lines ; 
also in establishing a division line between the States of New York 
and Pennsylvania ; and the limits of a territory, the right of soil 
of which the State of Massachusetts had accepted in lieu of a con- 
tested claim both to the land and the jurisdiction of a large part 
of the State of New York. These arduous operations engaged 
Mr. Rittenhouse until 1787, and, with the duties of the State 
Treasury and Loan Office, of which he was a trustee, kept him 
fully employed. During a part of the time the emoluments of 
his offices were so small that he was unable to afford the neces- 
sary assistance of a clerk, and had to call in the aid of his wife. 
Mr. Rittenhouse surrendered his trusts in 1790. 

Under the federal government he was appointed a commis- 



120 SELF-MADE MEN. 

sioner to receive subscriptions to the Bank of the United States ; 
and when the law establishing a national mint was passed, he was 
named by Washington as its first director. The machinery of 
that establishment was put up under his direction, and the work- 
men instructed beneath his eye. The first coinage of the United 
States bore the impress of his practical skill, and sufficed for many 
years. Mr. Rittenhouse applied himself so laboriously to the du- 
ties of his office that his health became seriously impaired, and he 
was compelled, in June, 1795, to retire. His resignation was ac- 
cepted by the government with great unwillingness. 

He did not afterward take any active part in politics, or hold 
office except as president of a Democratic society. So seriously 
had his constitution been impaired by his labors, that he survived 
his resignation little more than one year, his death occurring on 
the 26th of June, 1796, in the sixty-fifth year of his age. Mr. 
Rittenhouse was a distinguished member of all the learned soci- 
eties of his own country, and was elected a foreign member of the 
Royal Society of London — an honor greatly esteemed and never 
hastily conferred. 



CAKSTEN NIEBUHR. 

Carsten Niebuhr, the Oriental traveler, was a native of a 
Friesland province called Hadeln, where he was born a free peas- 
ant, among a free people, on the 17th of March, 1733. In those 
days all the peasants owned their own farms, and were, conse- 
quently, in good circumstances, without belonging to the wealthy. 
The little Carsten lost his mother before he was six weeks old, 
and was brought up by a stepmother in the house of his father, 
where his mode of living and occupations, as well as his educa- 
tion, were distinguished by nothing from those of other peasant- 
boys. Probably it was his own longing for information that oc- 
casioned his father to send him to the Latin school in Otterndorf, 
and, somewhat later, to that of Altenbruch ; merely, however, 
that he might acquire a little more knowledge than an ordinary 
farmer. But the dismissal of the schoolmaster at Altenbruch. 
and the prejudices of his guardian (for his father had died mean- 
time), put an early end to his studies, before he was far enough 
advanced to experience any profit from this first beginning. 

The paternal property was divided among the children, produc- 
ing but a small sum to each. Carsten had now to look out for 
himself in the cold world. Having a natural taste for music, he 
studied various instruments, hoping that he might eventually suc- 
ceed in obtaining a situation as organist. His guardians, how- 
ever, were averse to this hazardous experiment, and his uncle 
took him into his house, where he followed for four years the bus- 
iness of farming. It was distasteful to him, and he longed for a 
more intellectual life. The trifling circumstances which often de- 
termine the vital issues of life were very curious in the case of 
Carsten Niebuhr. A lawsuit in regard to the superficial con- 
tents of a farm could only be decided by a geometrical survey. A 
surveyor was consequently needed, but the country of Hadeln 
could not produce one. Niebuhr was a patriotic man, and felt a 
kind of humiliation at this circumstance. It became a duty to 
supply this want. He determined to study practical geometry, 
and suit himself for the office. With this object, he proceeded to 

F 



122 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Bremen to take lessons from a professor there. This plan, howev- 
er, did not succeed. The professor on whom he had depended was 
dead. He would not have declined the instruction of an inferior 
practical surveyor ; but this man wished to take him as a board- 
er in his house; and the young countryman, diffident, bashful, 
and of the severest principles, found the obliging manners of the 
two sisters of his intended teacher so questionable that he left 
Bremen on the spot. It was this circumstance which made him 
a traveler. He now set his face toward Hamburg, where he ar- 
rived in the summer of the year 1755. In this city it was his in- 
tention to take lessons of the celebrated Succow, and, indeed, to 
begin his school studies anew. Eight months were entirely de- 
voted to preparatory studies before he could become a student in 
the gymnasium; and twelve months more were wholly insuffi- 
cient, notwithstanding all his exertions, and his perfect health of 
body and mind, to acquire what every youth more favored by cir- 
cumstances carries with him to the University without difficulty. 
Succow being absent, he commenced his mathematical studies un- 
der Biisch, whose friendship and esteem he secured for the re- 
mainder of his life. In 1757 he went to Glottingen, still in pur- 
suit of his mathematical studies, and with the hope, too, of finding 
some kind of employment which would enable him to eke out his 
scanty means. For more than a year he continued his studies 
with the greatest possible assiduity and devotion, but without se- 
curing any appointment to contribute to his means. 

In 1756, Michaelis's celebrated philological expedition to Ara- 
bia was proposed to the government of Denmark, and accepted by 
the minister, Baron Bernstorf, who lent to it all his influence and 
aid. Michaelis was commissioned to name a philologian, a math- 
ematician, and a natural philosopher. To obtain the mathema- 
tician he addressed himself to Kastner, of the Academy of Sci- 
ences at Gottingen. Carsten was a pupil of this gentleman, and, 
when the moment arrived, he proposed him as the mathematician 
of the expedition. Niebuhr was, of course, delighted, but he had 
misgivings of his own ability. Kastner, however, set his mind at 
rest about it by promising him a long term for preparation, espe- 
cially for the study of astronomy under Mayer. 

For eighteen months — the term allowed by the king for the 
necessary preparations of the expedition — Niebuhr devoted him^ 
self to the closest study. He continued the study of pure mathe- 



CARSTEN NIEBUHR. 123 

.matics, perfected himself in drawing, and endeavored to acquire 
as much historical knowledge as he could with his imperfect pre- 
liminary studies, without leaving his main purpose too much out 
of view. He also exercised himself in practical mechanics, that 
he might learn to handle his instruments ; and also in all those 
points of mechanical skill, the acquirement and practice of which 
would be a waste of time for every one in Europe who does not 
make them his business. But he was principally occupied with 
two courses of private lessons, viz., in the Arabic language with 
Michaelis, and in astronomy with Mayer. Of these he preserved 
a very different remembrance. The slow, methodical method of 
Michaelis discouraged him, and he acquired the conviction that 
the professor by no means possessed any special treasure of Ara- 
bic knowledge and philology. He therefore gave up this study, 
and Michaelis never forgave him. With Mayer he got on excel- 
lently. The teacher's zeal was only exceeded by the pupil's en- 
thusiasm. A mutual friendship sprang up between them, which 
lasted, under the most happy and gratifying circumstances, to the 
day of Mayer's death. It was Niebuhr' s delight in later days to 
acknowledge that he owed every thing to this eminent astronomer 
and excellent man. 

In the autumn of 1760, every thing being in readiness, Niebuhr 
left Gottingen. His companions were Von Haven and Forskaal 
— the latter a man of undoubted ability, the former a supercil- 
ious and querulous person ; Dr. Cramer, a physician of mean ca- 
pacity, and Baucrnfeind, a painter, " not unskilled in drawing." 
The voyage commenced under the most unfavorable auspices, the 
vessel being three times driven back into port before she was able 
to make her way to the Mediterranean. A stay of a few weeks 
at Marseilles, and a shorter one at Malta, afforded a very pleas- 
ing recreation to the travelers. Their scientific enterprise being 
known, they were every where treated with great consideration 
and courtesy. From Malta the travelers proceeded to the Dar- 
danelles. In the Archipelago Niebuhr was seized with the dysen- 
tery, which brought him near the grave. At Constantinople his 
health returned, though very slowly ; so that at the end of two 
months from the commencement of the attack, he was only so far 
recovered as to be able, with evident hazard of relapse, to embark 
for Alexandria. On this voyage they encountered a fresh danger. 
The plague broke out among the crowded mass of Oriental pas- 
sengers. The Europeans, however, escaped. 



124 SELF-MADE MEN. 

From September, 1761, until October, 1762, the travelers re- 
mained in Egypt, without going higher up than Cairo. During 
their sojourn Niebuhr determined the longitude of Alexandria, 
Cairo, Rosetta, and Damietta, by numerous lunar observations, 
and with an exactness which was subsequently justified by the as- 
tronomers in Bonaparte's expedition. He also executed a chart 
of the two arms of the Nile, and a plan of Cairo. He likewise 
took the altitude of the pyramids, and copied many hieroglyphic 
inscriptions on obelisks and sarcophagi. 

In October the travelers embarked at Suez on board of a Turk- 
ish ship ; they landed at Djidda, and reached Loheia, the first 
point of their proper destination — the land of Yemen — in the 
last days of the year 1762. After some stay in this friendly city, 
the company, and more especially Forskaal and Niebuhr, traveled 
over the western part of Yemen in various directions ; the former 
for botanical purposes, and the latter in order to determine the 
geographical positions of the various places. They afterward 
proceeded to Mocha, where Von Haven died toward the end of 
.May, 1763. About the same time, Niebuhr was again attacked 
by dysentery, but was saved by prudent foresight and extreme 
temperance. His health was not fully restored when the party 
moved on to Sana, the capital of Yemen. On the way Forskaal 
was seized with a bilious disorder, of which he died at Yerim, 
July 11th, 1763. With but two remaining companions Niebuhr 
pursued the journey. His own health was feeble, and for the 
only time in his life he gave way to despondency. His anxiety 
was not so much for the safety of his own life as for the preserva- 
tion of the papers of the expedition. The surviving members of 
the expedition were thoroughly disheartened, and, in consequence, 
declined a friendly invitation to remain a full year in Sana and 
Upper Yemen. They hastily descended once more to the coast 
in the hope that the ships might not yet have taken their depart- 
ure, and made so much haste that they had more than a month 
to remain at Mocha before the ship in which they were to return 
to Malta was ready. It was in the height of summer, and the 
surviving travelers, with their servant, were all attacked by the 
fever of the climate. Bauernfeind and the servant died at sea. 
Cramer reached Bombay, remained ill several months, and died. 
Of the entire expedition, Niebuhr was now the sole survivor. 

Niebuhr remained in Bombay until his health was completely 



CARSTEN NIEBUHK. 125 

re-established. He used his time advantageously in studying the 
English language. He collected also all the information which 
was to be obtained respecting the Parsees and Hindoos ; visited 
the pagodas hewn in the rocks of Elephanta, and made drawings 
of their sculptures. He occupied himself further in reducing all 
his journals into proper order, and forwarded a copy to Denmark. 
After a sojourn of fourteen months he left Bombay ; visited 
Muscat ; proceeded to Shiraz and Persepolis, and spent nearly 
four weeks in drawing and measuring the ruins in the latter place, 
of which he always preserved the most vivid recollection. Prom 
Shiraz he crossed the Persian Gulf to Bassora, and thence through 
Bagdad and Mosul to Haleb. An opportunity of going to Jaffa 
tempted him to visit Palestine. After that he explored Asia 
Minor, and reached Constantinople on the 20th of February, 
1767. After having spent five months in that city, he passed 
over Turkey in Europe to Poland, and in November reached Co- 
penhagen. He was received with great distinction by the court, 
the ministers, and all the learned men. When the expenses of the 
expedition were calculated, they were found not to exceed $17,000 
— a remarkably small sum, considering the magnitude of the orig- 
inal arrangements, and the unusual outlays to which they were 
necessarily exposed. It was a point of conscience with Niebuhr 
to settle up his accounts with the greatest expedition, having been 
appointed treasurer from the commencement. His next solicitude 
was to arrange his voluminous notes, and arrange for the speedy 
publication of his travels. The materials contained in his jour- 
nals were in the highest degree rich and profuse, and that he 
wrought them up with a degree of perfection, to which the entire 
artlessness and simplicity of his manner contributed not a little, 
every one will now acknowledge. His first design was to pub- 
lish two separate works before his Travels ; first, answers to the 
questions which had been directed to the travelers, out of his own 
and Forskaal's papers; and, secondly, the whole of his astro- 
nomical observations. The difficulties and hostilities he had to 
encounter from a variety of causes and persons interfered with 
this arrangement. Some years elapsed before even the Travels 
made their appearance, and then they were published slowly, and 
mainly at his own expense. The engravings, however, were made 
at the expense of the Danish government, the plates being pre- 
sented to him. The Description of Arabia appeared in 1772. 



126 SELF-MADE MEN. 

In 1773 Mr. Niebuhr was married to the daughter of Blumen- 
berg, the physician. Two children were the fruits of this union, 
a daughter, and B. G. Niebuhr, the eminent historian of Rome, 
and author of the Memoir from which this sketch is compiled. 
After his marriage Mr. Niebuhr took up his residence at Mel- 
ford, of which district he was appointed secretary by the govern- 
ment (1778). He had a large house and garden, and much of 
his time was occupied in attending to them and educating his 
children ; the rest to preparing his works for the press. 

The first volume of his Travels appeared in 1774; the second 
in 1778. Both volumes were attended with loss. The political 
agitations of the times were unfavorable to works which, although 
eminently instructive, did not appeal to a large class of readers, 
and required much calm and serious study. The third volume 
was not published. Niebuhr felt the indifference of his country- 
men keenly, and was, moreover, seriously inconvenienced by it in 
a pecuniary point of view. It was not until after his death that 
the great merits of this excellent traveler were fully recognized. 
In 1795 a sad misfortune befell him. The engraved plates, both 
of his published works and also for the still unpublished part, 
were destroyed in the great conflagration at Copenhagen. This 
new calamity removed the opportunity and even the inclination 
to supply the deficient volume. For the remainder of his life 
Mr. Niebuhr devoted himself to purely domestic pursuits. 

His son relates some pleasing anecdotes of the green old age of 
this worthy man. " I have a very lively recollection," he says, 
" of many stories out of my boyish years about the system of the 
universe, and about the East ; when he used to take me upon his 
knee at evening before going to bed, and feed me with such food, 
instead of children's fables. The history of Mohammed, of the 
first califs, and especially of Omar and Ali, for whom he felt 
the profoundest veneration ; that of the conquests and extension 
of Islamism, of the virtues of the early heroes of the new faith, 
the history of the Turks — all these impressed themselves early 
and in the most pleasing colors on my mind. The historical 
works which treat of these subjects were also almost the first 
books which came into my hands. I recollect also, about my 
tenth year, how at Christmas, in order to give the festival still 
more importance in my eyes, he brought out and read with me 
the manuscripts which contained the accounts collected by him 



C AUSTEN NIEBUHR. 127 

respecting Africa. These and his other manuscripts were kept 
in an ornamental coffer, which was venerated by the children and 
inmates of the house like a second ark." 

In November, 1792, Mr. Niebuhr was brought near to the grave 
by pleurisy, and recovered only by slow degrees. In consequence 
of his full habit of body, his fixed and almost sedentary life for so 
many years had prepared the way for severe sickness and a long 
interruption of his health. In the following year he spat blood. 
He was not positively ill, but without energy, low-spirited, out of 
humor, breathed with difficulty, and walked only with great effort. 
Another complaint also increased his anxiety. Several years be- 
fore, there had appeared under his right eye a small excrescence 
like a wart, which continued to spread slowly but constantly, and 
was only made worse by all the means employed to remove it. 
The physicians regarded it with the more solicitude because they 
durst not venture upon its extirpation. After many years of 
anxiety and trouble, a remedy was at length found in 1796 by 
which it was loosened and removed, roots and all. After this, 
on the completion of his sixty-sixth year, his health, and with it 
his frame of mind, took a more happy turn. Circumstances in- 
duced him to purchase some marsh lands about an hour's distance 
from his house, and to undertake the reclamation of them for til- 
lage. It was refreshing to him thus to return to the employment 
of his youth ; he sketched plans for making these lands productive, 
prosecuted them with youthful ardor, and promised himself the 
best success — planted trees, dug drains and ditches, and so pur- 
chased by degrees a great estate. The result disappointed his 
hopes, and a large sum was lost. Still, in this case, it is not to 
be regretted; for, says Mr. Niebuhr's son, "not only does much 
remain in a state of improvement and tillage, but the old age of 
my father was, Avithout doubt, by this means prolonged and ren- 
dered more serene. He took much and active exercise, visited 
the newly-planned farm now on foot and now on horseback, and 
inspected indefatigably every spot where any thing was to be done 
or directions to be given. As the fields were separated by broad 
ditches, in order to shorten the distances he often made use of a 
leaping-staff, to the use of which he had been accustomed from 
childhood. He had now so renewed his strength that, with the 
aid of such a staff, Kluvstaahm, he was able, in his seventieth year, 
to spring over ditches ten feet wide." 



128 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Mr. Niebuhr was a man of a full-blooded, stout, and phlegmat- 
ic temperament. For a number of years he had accustomed him- 
self to periodical bloodlettings, imagining that his health required 
them. Unhappily, he took it into his head that he ought to omit 
this on account of his great age, and could not be induced, by any 
warnings or representations, to give up this idea, until dizziness, 
apoplectic stupor, and spitting of blood had brought him into the 
most imminent danger. In October, 1813, he was seized with a 
violent hemorrhage through the nose. With no weariness of life, 
but yet satiated with it, he often expressed himself anxious to de- 
part and join his wife, if God should call him. In March, 1814, 
his symptoms were aggravated by a fall, in which his right leg 
received a permanent injury. He was never able afterward to 
place his foot upon the ground; he could move only with pain by 
the help of others ; he was taken out of bed only in the afternoon, 
and placed in a chair with rollers. A numerous and still unbroken 
family circle were gathered around him ; and he himself, except, 
perhaps, when some day of particular illness occurred, was full 
of heartfelt joy over the change of times, and ever ready to con- 
verse. "We succeeded," says his son, "in drawing from him 
continued recitals of his travels, which he at this time gave us 
with peculiar fullness and sprightliness. Thus he once spoke for 
a long time and much in detail of Persepolis, and described the 
walls on which the inscriptions and bas-reliefs of which he spoke 
were found, just as one would describe a building which he had 
recently visited. We could not conceal our astonishment. He 
said to us that as he lay thus blind upon his bed, the images of 
all that he had seen in the East were ever present to his soul, 
and it was therefore no wonder that he should speak of them as 
of yesterday. In like manner, there was vividly reflected to him 
in the hours of stillness the nocturnal view of the deep Asiatic 
heavens, with their brilliant host of stars, which he had so often 
contemplated, or else their blue and lofty vault by day ; and this 
was his greatest enjoyment." 

In this condition Mr. Niebuhr lingered until April, 1815. To- 
ward evening of the 26th he desired some one to read to him, and 
asked several questions with entire consciousness. He fell again 
into a slumber, and died without a struggle, in the eighty-third 
year of his age. 

His funeral was attended by a multitude of people from every 



CARSTEN NIEBUHJ?. 129 

part of the district. In the memory of the oldest inhabitant, no 
one had died there so universally lamented. 

Mr. Niebuhr was a man of extremely frugal habits ; until late 
in life he drank nothing but water and milk. He had no favorite 
dishes except the peasant food of his native place. It was his 
greatest pride that he was a child of free Friesland. His char- 
acter was without a spot ; his morals in the highest degree severe 
and pure. As a traveler, he was remarkable for keen observation ; 
every thing he saw remained firmly fixed in his mind, and he re- 
membered it with astonishing tenacity. " To this day," says his 
son, " no traveler returns from the East without admiration and 
gratitude for this teacher and guide, the most distinguished of 
Oriental travelers. None of those who have hitherto followed him 
can be compared with him ;* and we may well inquire whether he 
will ever find a successor who will complete the description of 
Arabia, and be named along with him." 

* This, it must be remembered, was written in 1816. 

F* 




HENEY CLAY. 

The readers of this brief memoir of one of America's greatest 
politicians need not expect to find an important political biography. 
The character, principles, and policy of the acts of Henry Clay 
belong to the history of the country, which can not fail to do him 
justice. In this and similar instances, all we shall attempt will 
be to trace the footsteps of our illustrious personage from the first 
round on the ladder of fame to the last on its giddy eminence. 
With the aid of patient courage, devotion, and talent (which God 
so often gives to the lowly), great men have thus struggled up- 
ward, and obtained the suffrage of the world. It is our pleasant 
task to record the instances. 

Henry Clay was a native of Hanover County, Virginia, where, 
in a low, swampy neighborhood, called the Slashes, he was born, on 
the 12th of April, 1 777. Henry was the fifth of a family of seven 
children, which, at an early age, were left to the care of a wid- 
owed mother. The limited means at the disposal of this lady did 
not allow her to bestow on her sons the advantages of a classical 
education. All the schooling that Henry enjoyed at this period 



HENRY CLAY. 131 

of his life was received at the log cabin schoolhouse of Peter 
Deacon, an establishment consisting of one room, with no floor 
but the earth, and no window but the door. At this primitive 
institution of learning Henry Clay was instructed in the import- 
ant mysteries of reading, writing, and arithmetic, progressing in 
the latter "as far as practice." The circumstances of his early 
life did not allow him to devote all his time to study. He had to 
assist in the serious business of providing for a large family, and 
in his humble way did all he could. He plowed in the fields, 
and, when the grain was garnered, carried it to the mill to be 
converted into meal or flour. On such occasions he generally 
rode a horse without a saddle, and with a rope for a bridle. 
From this circumstance he became known as the "Mill-boy of 
the Slashes' 1 — a name which will be handed down to posterity. 
In the political pageants of the Whig party in later days, it was a 
common thing to have a living personification of the future states- 
man. The horse, the meal-bag, the rope bridle, were there to convey 
a healthy sentiment to American minds, but the man who crossed 
the back of the steed was probably a little different to the original. 
When Henry had reached his fourteenth year (1791), he was 
placed in a retail store at Eichmond, Virginia. In the mean time, 
Mrs. Clay had changed her condition for the second time, and 
united her fortunes to a gentleman — Captain Henry Watkins — 
not unworthy of her. Mr. Watkins entertained a fatherly regard 
for the children, and was especially attached to Henry. At his 
suggestion, Henry was removed from the store, and, by his in- 
fluence, placed at a desk in the office of the clerk of the High 
Court of Chanceiy, Peter Tinsley, Esq. There were several other 
clerks in the same office, and, when Henry made his appearance, 
they promised themselves no small amount of fun at his expense. 
His appearance was certainly eccentric. His mother had dressed 
him up in a new suit of Figginy (Virginia) cloth, cotton and silk 
mixed, of the complexion of pepper and salt, with clean linen well 
starched, and the tail of his coat standing out from his legs at a 
fearful angle. So long as the other clerks only laughed at his 
comical appearance, Henry had nothing to say ; but when they 
proceeded farther, they discovered that Master Clay had a tongue 
of his own, and a sharp intellect to tip it with venom. In a very 
short time he gained complete ascendency over them. They were 
the first to look up to the " Mill-boy of the Slashes." 



132 SELF-MADE MEN. 

A frequent visitor at Mr. Tinsley' s office was the venerable 
Chancellor Wythe. There was something about Henry's appear- 
ance which attracted the chancellor's attention, and induced him 
to make inquiries about him. The chancellor needed an aman- 
uensis, and proposed to Mr. Tinsley that Henry's services should 
be loaned to him. As they were not of much importance in an 
office where he was merely a supernumerary, the proposition was 
readily acceded to. 

Henry Clay found a sincere friend and adviser in the chancellor, 
and the latter soon discovered that he had a willing and capable 
assistant. One of the fruits of this fortunate connection may be 
seen to the present day in a folio volume of the Supreme Court 
of the United States at Washington. It is an eminently profound 
work, abounding in quotations from Latin and Greek authors. 
These quotations were copied by Clay in a neat and legible hand. 
Not understanding a single Greek character, the young copyist 
had to transcribe each letter by imitation. 

In the latter part of 1796, Henry Clay left the office of Mr. 
Tinsley, and became a regular student of law in the office of At- 
torney General Brooke. In the following year he was admitted 
to practice by the Virginia Court of Appeals, and soon after re- 
moved to Lexington, Kentucky, to establish himself in the pro- 
fession he had adopted with so much devotion. It must not be 
supposed that his studies were confined to the one year spent in 
the office of the attorney general. Under the chancellor he ac- 
quired the surest basis of legal knowledge, and all that he needed 
for the practice of the law was a methodical arrangement of what 
he knew. 

He was now in his twenty-first year, and, to use his own words, 
found himself in Lexington without patrons, without the favor or 
countenance of the great or opulent, without the means of paying 
his weekly board, and in the midst of a bar uncommonly distin- 
guished by eminent members. " I remember," he adds, " how 
comfortable I thought I should be if I could make one hundred 
pounds, Virginia money, per year, and with what delight I received 
the first fifteen shillings fee." He devoted himself with assiduity 
to his profession, and seized every moment to improve himself in 
learning. He became known for his brilliant talents and for his 
masterly oratory, and, much sooner than he anticipated or had a 
right to expect, rushed into a lucrative practice. His subtle ap- 



HENRY CLAY. 133 

preciation of character, knowledge of human nature, and facul- 
ties of persuasion, rendered him peculiarly successful in his ap- 
peals to a jury, and he obtained great celebrity for his adroit and 
careful management of criminal cases. 

Finding himself in a position to act with regard to the future, 
he took on himself the responsibilities of domestic life, and in 
April, 1799 — eighteen months after his removal to Kentucky — 
married Lucretia Hart, daughter of Colonel Thomas Hart, a gen- 
tleman of high standing in Lexington, and famed for his enter- 
prise, public spirit, and hospitality. By this lady he had a nu- 
merous family, several of whom were married during Mr. Clay's 
lifetime, and became parents of a numerous progeny, who were 
privileged to call the great statesman grandfather. 

Mr. Clay's practice was destined to be interrupted by calls to 
a higher field of labor. The power he exercised over masses of 
human beings rendered him an invaluable speaker on political 
subjects. It is unnecessary to dwell on the many criminal cases 
in which he was engaged. They were conducted with a skill 
which made his services of the highest value to defendants in dan- 
ger of their necks. Men in such a position generally contrive to 
get a counsel who can most successfully influence a jury, and 
Henry Clay was seldom without a retaining -fee. The success 
of his efforts may be estimated by the fact that, during his long 
career, he never lost a client by capital punishment, although it 
is to be feared many of them deserved it. We will now briefly 
refer to the case that first placed Henry Clay on that extended 
field which he was destined to fill so nobly. His entrance on the 
theatre of public life was as early as 1798, the year after he re- 
moved to Kentucky. A series of articles were written by his 
pen, and published in the Kentucky Gazette, advocating emanci- 
pation doctrines with much earnestness and power. Soon after- 
ward he took the field more openly, and headed a party of eman- 
cipationists during the agitation for remodeling the State Consti- 
tution, proposing and advocating the introduction of an article for 
the gradual and ultimate abolition of slavery in the common- 
wealth. This decided step in the cause of human liberty was not 
calculated to increase his popularity, and, indeed, in later times, 
gave his enemies many opportunities of heaping obloquy on the 
conscientious statesman. Notwithstanding the immediate failure 
of his exertions, Mr. Clay never shrunk from the avowal of his 



134 SELF-MADE MEN. 

sentiments on the subject, nor from practically acting on them 
whenever the opportunity occurred. For several years, when- 
ever a slave brought an action to recover his liberty, Mr. Clay 
volunteered as his advocate, and he always succeeded in obtain- 
ing a decision in the slave's favor. 

During the administration of John Adams in 1798-1799, the 
notorious alien and sedition laws were passed, measures which 
were destined to arouse the fiercest political indignation. By the 
"Alien Law" the President was authorized to order any alien 
"whom he should judge dangerous to the peace and safety" of 
the country "to depart out of the territory within such a time" 
as he should judge proper, upon penalty of being " imprisoned for 
a term not exceeding three years." The Sedition Law was in- 
tended to curb the freedom of the press. The apology for these 
outrageous measures was that there were many thousand French- 
men and Englishmen in the country who were banded together 
in private societies for no good purpose ; and that there were two 
hundred newspapers published in the United States, some of 
which were under the control of aliens. The " Sedition Law" im- 
posed a heavy fine, and imprisonment for a term of years, " upon 
such as should combine or conspire together to oppose any meas- 
ure of government, and upon such as should write, print, utter, 
publish, etc., any false, scandalous, and malicious writing against 
the government of the United States or the President." 

Mr. Clay was one of the first to express his abhorrence of 
these extreme measures, and in doing so he gave expression to the 
common voice of the state. The Legislature declared the law 
to be unconstitutional, and for the part Mr. Clay had taken in this 
happy decision he received the title of The Great Commoner. 
From a Life of Henry Clay we quote the following anecdote of 
the time : "A gentleman who was present at a meeting where 
these obnoxious laws were discussed describes the effect produced 
by Mr. Clay's eloquence as difficult adequately to describe. The 
populace had assembled in the fields in the vicinity of Lexington, 
and were first addressed by Mr. George Nicholas, a distinguished 
man and a powerful speaker. The speech of Mr. Nicholas was 
long and eloquent, and he was greeted by the most enthusiastic 
cheers as he concluded. Clay, being called for, promptly appear- 
ed, and made one of the most extraordinary and impressive ha- 
rangues ever addressed to a popular assembly, A striking evi- 



HENKY CLAY. 135 

dence of its thrilling and effective character may be found in the 
fact that when he ceased tJiere ivas no shout, no applause. So elo- 
quently had he interpreted the deep feelings of the multitude, 
that they forgot the orator in the absorbing emotions he had pro- 
duced. A higher compliment can hardly be conceived. The 
theme was a glorious one for a young and generous mind filled 
with ardor in behalf of human liberty, and he did it justice. The 
people took Clay and Nicholas upon their shoulders, and, forcing 
them into a carriage, drew them through the streets amid shouts 
of applause. What an incident for an orator who had not yet com- 
pleted his twenty-second year !" 

Four years after this Mr. Clay was elected to the General As- 
sembly of Kentucky (1803). He had now fairly entered upon his 
political career, and all that remains for us is to indicate it in the 
briefest manner possible. His first election to Congress was in 
1806, but it was only for the remaining portion of a term ; and 
in 1807 he was again elected to the General Assembly of Ken- 
tucky, of which he was chosen Speaker. In 1809 he was elected 
for an unexpired term of two years to the Senate of the United 
States. On the expiration of this term he was elected a repre- 
sentative to Congress, where he was chosen Speaker of the House 
of Representatives. He was five times re-elected to this honor- 
able post. In all the prominent measures of the day he took an 
active part, and especially distinguished himself by his earnest 
denunciations of the English claims to right of search and other 
maritime prerogatives ; and as he was one of the prime insti- 
gators of the war with England, so during its continuance he re- 
mained one of its strongest advocates. In consequence of the 
active part he took in all matters relating to this war, he was ap- 
pointed in 1814 one of the commissioners to negotiate the treaty 
of peace. In France, whither he repaired, he was treated with 
much distinction, and on his return to America was re-elected to 
Congress. In 1819 Mr. Clay resigned his seat, and, with the ob- 
ject of improving his pecuniary position, returned to the practice 
of his profession. In a short time he regained a highly remuner- 
ative practice. Four years later (1823) he was again returned 
to the House of Representatives, and at once restored to his place 
as Speaker. Under the administration of President Adams Mr. 
Clay was appointed Secretary of State, which office he held until 
1827. On the election of GeneralJackson in 1829, Clay retired 



136 SELF-MADE MEN. 

for a while into private life, but in 1831 he was elected to the 
United States Senate. In 1833 he was an unsuccessful candi- 
date for the presidency, and was equally unsuccessful in the two 
subsequent campaigns. Henry Clay remained a member of the 
Senate till 1842, when, finding that his strength was insufficient 
to undergo the arduous tasks he imposed on it, he took a formal 
leave of the scene of his long labors in a speech which thrilled 
the heart of the nation, and which moved it, also, with shame that 
a servant so faithful and gifted had been neglected. " Justice to 
Clay" became a rallying cry, and in 1844 he was once more nom- 
inated for the highest office in the gift of the people. This time 
the majority belonged to the opposite party, and President Polk 
was elected. Clay remained in retirement until 1849, when he 
was again returned to the Senate. The severe labors which he 
imposed on himself in the patriotic endeavor to reconcile the in- 
terests of the North and South on the subject of slavery serious- 
ly impaired his already feeble health. He tendered his resigna- 
tion as senator, but before the day named for it to take effect he 
had breathed his last. He died on the 29th of June, 1852, still 
a Great Commoner, at the age of seventy-five. He was buried 
with great pomp, and the people throughout the length and breadth 
of the land recognized his death as a national calamity. 

Mr. Clay, in his domestic relations, sustained an enviable repu- 
tation as a husband, father, and master. It was his good fortune 
to be united to a lady of great excellence, and the homely and 
happy influence of her sway made Ashland a retreat of the most 
tranquil delight. She was a noticeable housewife, and superin- 
tended not only the house, but the farm of her husband, contain- 
ing upward of six hundred acres, and populated with a small army 
of negroes. Mr. Clay was universally respected, and in the im- 
mediate neighborhood of his home received a meed of respect al- 
most amounting to adoration. The following anecdote is related 
in Colton's Life. Some few days after the result of the presidential 
election of 1844 was known, Mr. Clay met a woman on horseback 
as he was walking in the public road near Ashland, who stopped 
to salute him, but immediately burst into tears. " Madam," in- 
quired Mr. Clay, "pray what is the matter?" "Sir," said she, 
in broken accents, "you do not know me, but my father, once 
your neighbor, always taught me to revere you. I have lost my 
father, my husband, and my children, and passed through other 



HENRY CLAY. 137 

painful trials ; but all of them together have not given me so much 
sorrow as the late disappointment of your friends." 

Mr. Clay was a tall man, six feet one inch high, spare in body, 
with long arms and small hands. His carriage was remarkably 
erect, and became additionally so in debate. Of his facial appear- 
ance we need say nothing. There is scarcely an American family 
in the country that does not possess a bust or a portrait of the 
famous " Mill-boy of the Slashes." His temper was quick and 
easily excited, but, like most quick-tempered persons, he permit- 
ted nothing to linger behind. In his valedictory to the Senate of 
the United States, the following touching and manly passage oc- 
curs, with which we close this brief sketch of a great man : 

"That my nature is warm, my temper ardent, my disposition 
— especially in relation to the public service — enthusiastic, I am 
fully ready to own. During a long and arduous career of service 
in the public councils of my country — especially during the last 
eleven years I have held a seat in the Senate — from the same 
ardor and enthusiasm of character, I have no doubt, in the heat 
of debate, and in an honest endeavor to maintain my opinions 
against adverse opinions equally honestly entertained, as to the 
best course to be adopted for the public welfare, I may have often, 
inadvertently or unintentionally, in moments of excited debate, 
made use of language that has been offensive and susceptible of 
injurious interpretation toward my brother senators. If there be 
any here who retain wounded feelings of injury or dissatisfaction 
produced on such occasions, I beg to assure them that I now offer 
the amplest apology for any departure on my part from the estab- 
lished rules of parliamentary decorum and courtesy. On the other 
hand, I assure the senators, one and all, without exception and 
without reserve, that I retire from this Senate-chamber without 
carrying with me a single feeling of resentment or dissatisfaction 
to the Senate or any one of its members." 



JOHN LEDYAED. 

In America, every man, more or less, is a traveler. It is not re- 
markable, therefore, that America has produced some of the most 
enterprising of the class. The constant pioneering which every 
man undertakes in search of fortune has given to our citizens a nat- 
ural aptitude for the perils, excitements, and rude pleasures of the 
traveler's lot. In a country so vast as this, geographical ideas of 
distance are forgotten. We pay a winter visit to our relatives in 
New Orleans, as if that tropical city lay somewhere on the North 
River. Thus accustomed to travel an immense continent, it is not 
remarkable that our citizens penetrate all parts of Europe with 
great rapidity and energy, or that some few, who have a special 
talent for the vocation, become great and world-known travelers. 

One of our earliest distinguished men in this way was John 
Ledyard, whose romantic story we are now about to condense. 
Ledyard was born in the year 1751, at Groton, in Connecticut. 
His parents were in easy circumstances, but, on the death of his 
father, the family were thrown into difficulties, owing to a fraud 
which was practiced on the widow, depriving her of a small es- 
tate which of right was hers. Young Ledyard received an ordi- 
nary grammar-school education, and at an early day was placed 
in a lawyer's office. From this irksome imprisonment he was re- 
leased by Dr. Wheelock, the amiable and pious founder of Dart- 
mouth College, who invited Ledyard to enter his institution re- 
cently established at Hanover, New Hampshire, and qualify him- 
self to become a missionary among the Indians. This plan was 
so much in accordance with his mother's wishes, that Ledyard 
— who probably had an eye to its romantic bearings — assent- 
ed to it. In due time he started for Hanover, performing the 
journey in a broken-down sulky, and bearing with him, in addi- 
tion to his clothes and books, a queer assortment of calico cur- 
tains and " properties" for dramatic entertainments. Ledyard 
had a passion for plays, and burdened himself with these acces- 
sories of the stage in order that he might be able to get up some 






"JOHN LEDYARD. 139 

private theatricals during the Avinter months. It is to be feared 
that he thought more of this matter than of his studies ; for in 
a short time he fitted up a stage, and, assisted by the other stu- 
dents, produced the tragedy of Cato, himself playing the charac- 
ter of Syphax in a long gray beard, and a dress of a pantomim- 
ical character supposed to bear some resemblance to the national 
costume of a Numidian prince. With a head full of these idle 
fancies, it is not remarkable that he neglected his studies, and 
longed to escape from the irksome routine of a student's life. He 
had only been in the college four, months, when one day he was 
missed, and for nearly four months nothing whatever was heard 
of him. "When he returned he explained that he had been tak- 
ing an excursion among the Six Nations on the borders of Cana- 
da, reviewing the missionary ground, and picking up some knowl- 
edge of the manners and language of the Indians. The impres- 
sions he received on this tour were not favorable to the mission- 
ary project. He abandoned it in his own mind, and only waited 
for an opportunity to cut loose from the college and its associ- 
ations. Every day this determination received new strength, 
inasmuch as every day he received some fresh hint from Dr. 
Wheelock concerning the value of time and necessity for well- 
disciplined study. 

It was not an easy thing to escape from Dartmouth College in 
those days, and Ledyard had to exercise all his ingenuity to do 
so. To go away on foot was out of the question ; of public con- 
veyances there were none, and the use of a private one could not 
be obtained without exciting suspicion. In this state of things, 
he directed all his attention to the Connecticut Kiver, which flow- 
ed past the college grounds. Along its margin he observed a 
number of glorious old trees, monarchs of the forest, which had 
stood there for centuries. One of these Ledyard contrived to cut 
down, and then wrought its huge trunk into a canoe. When the 
work was finished, he bade adieu to the home of the Muses, and 
set off alone to explore a river with the navigation of which he 
was entirely ignorant. The distance to Hartford was not less 
than one hundred and forty miles, much of the way being through 
dark, primeval forests, and in several places there were dangerous 
falls and rapids. He had a bearskin for a covering, and his ca- 
noe was liberally provisioned, so that he had little to apprehend 
save, from these dangers. Of books he took but two : a Greek 



HO SELF-MADE MEN. 

Testament and a copy of Ovid. With these he amused himself 
while the canoe dropped leisurely down the stream. One day he 
was deeply absorbed in his reading when his canoe approached 
Bellows' Falls, where he was suddenly aroused by the dashing 
of the waters among the rocks as they passed through the narrow 
passage. With difficulty he gained the shore, and thus escaped 
inevitable destruction. With the exception of this adventure, we 
hear of no other incident in his voyage worth recording. He ar- 
rived in safety at Hartford, much to the astonishment of his rel- 
atives. 

Ledyard, after this, appears to have conceived a violent desire 
to become a clergyman, and he applied to the clergy for approval 
as a candidate with his usual impetuosity, but with no success. 
He was greatly disappointed at the moment, but, a few weeks 
later, he cheerfully abandoned all ideas of the Church, and took 
to the very opposite profession of the sea. He entered himself 
as a common sailor for a voyage to the Mediterranean, but was 
treated by the captain rather as a friend and associate than as 
one of the crew. The voyage was first to Gibraltar, next to a 
port on the Barbary coast, for taking in a cargo of mules, and 
thence homeward by way of the West Indies. While the vessel 
was lying at Gibraltar, Ledyard was suddenly missed. Inquiries 
were made in the town without success. At length a messenger 
was dispatched to the barracks. There he was discovered in the 
full costume of a British soldier. He explained the circumstance 
by stating that he had a fondness for the profession of arms, and 
had therefore enlisted in the king's service. The captain of the 
vessel remonstrated with him, and, with his consent, fortunately 
secured a discharge. 

The voyage took about a year to complete, and at the end of 
that time he found himself once more in America, with nothing, 
in his pocket, and no prospect before him for the future. He was 
now in his twenty-second year, and began to realize the necessity 
of striking out a course of action for himself. His erratic con- 
duct had wearied his friends. He had no one to depend on but 
himself, and no one to look to, unless, indeed, it were some rel- 
atives of his grandfather, who was an Englishman of good fam- 
ily, and had many connections in Britain. The idea of hunting 
up these lost relatives was pleasing to his adventurous mind, and 
he determined to do so. For this purpose, he started out once 



JOHN LEDYARD. 141 

more ; took ship at New York, and in due time arrived at Plym- 
outh, England. Being entirely without means, he was com- 
pelled to travel on foot from this port to London. Arrived in 
the English metropolis, he made a single effort to discover his lost 
relatives, but, finding that his story was doubted, he abandoned 
the undertaking in disgust. With beggary staring him in the 
face, he had now to determine quickly his future plans. 

In a crowded city like London, there was little chance of em- 
ployment for a stranger who knew nothing of business, and was 
not master of a trade. His hopes lay in the maritime profes- 
sion. He knew how to handle a rope as well as any other 
Jack Tar, and perhaps had some other and more valuable nau- 
tical lore. At the time of his visit a great deal of attention was 
directed to seafaring matters. The celebrated circumnavigator, 
Captain Cook, was on the eve of departure for his third and 
last great voyage round the world, and was, of course, the espe- 
cial object of conversation. Ledyard's enterprising spirit thirst- 
ed for such a cruise, and he made up his mind to use every en- 
deavor to accompany the famous captain. As a preliminary 
step, he enlisted in the marines. Then he applied to the cap- 
tain, and, by dint of persuasion and assiduity, succeeded in ob- 
taining an appointment. Cook's great knowledge of men ena- 
bled him to form an instant estimate of Ledyard's character, and 
that it was no mean estimate was immediately proved by his 
promoting him to be corporal of marines. In this manner did 
Ledyard commence the career for which nature had evidently in- 
tended him, and which was destined to give renown to his name 
for ages afterward. 

The expedition, consisting of two ships, the Resolution and the 
Discovenj, left England on the 12th of July, 1776, and proceeded 
at once to the Cape of Good Hope, where the final arrangements 
for the voyage were completed. The men of science made short 
incursions into the interior to test the accuracy of their instru- 
ments ,- the sailors busied themselves in making all taut and com- 
fortable ; and the stewards interested themselves in the riches of 
the larder. Last of all were taken on board a heterogeneous col- 
lection of animals, designed to be left at islands where they did 
not exist, and consisting of horses, cattle, sheep, goats, hogs, dogs, 
cats, hares, rabbits, monkeys, ducks, geese, turkeys, and peacocks. 
" Thus," says Ledyard, " did we resemble the ark, and appear as 



142 SELF-MADE MEN. 

though we were going as well to stock, as to discover, a new 
world." 

The events of this voyage are known to most readers. Led- 
yard, on his return, wrote a book describing what he had seen in a 
picturesque and attractive style. We lack the necessary space for 
following the narrative, although it would be found extremely in- 
teresting. It must suffice that Ledyard enjoyed the confidence of 
Captain Cook, and was frequently employed to execute little tasks 
apart from his regular duties. One of these was so characteristic 
of the daring of the man, that we shall transcribe it in his own 
words. It happened at the island of Onalaska. " I have before 
observed that we had noticed many appearances to the eastward 
of this, as far almost as Sandwich Sound, of a European inter- 
course, and that we had, at this island in particular, met with cir- 
cumstances that did not only indicate such an intercourse, but 
seemed strongly to intimate that some Europeans were actually 
somewhere on the spot. The appearances that led to these con- 
jectures were such as these. We found among the inhabitants 
of this island two different kinds of people ; the one we knew to 
be the aborigines of America, while we supposed the others to 
have come from the opposite coasts of Asia. There were two dif- 
ferent dialects also observed, and we found them fond of tobacco, 
rum, and snuff. Tobacco we even found them possessed of, and 
we observed several blue linen shirts and drawers among them. 

"But the most remarkable circumstance was a cake of rye 
meal newly baked, with a piece of salmon in it, seasoned with pep- 
per and salt, which was brought and presented to Cook by a come- 
ly young chief, attended by two of those Indians whom we sup- 
posed to be Asiatics. The chief seemed anxious to explain to 
Cook the meaning of the present and the purport of his visit ; and 
he was so far successful as to persuade him that there were some 
strangers in the country, who were white, and had come over the 
great waters in a vessel somewhat like ours, and, though not so 
large, was yet much larger than theirs. 

" In consequence of this, Cook was determined to explore the 
island. It was difficult, however, to fix upon a plan that would 
at once answer the purpose of safety and expedition. An armed 
body would proceed slowly, and, if they should be cut off by the 
Indians, the loss in our present circumstances would be irrepara- 
ble ; and a single person would entirely risk his life, though he 



JOHN LEDYAKD. 143 

would be much more expeditious if unmolested, and if he should 
be killed, the loss would be only one. The latter seemed the best, 
but it was extremely hard to single out an individual, and com- 
mand him to go upon such an expedition. It was therefore 
thought proper to send a volunteer, or none. 

" I was at this time, and indeed ever after, an intimate friend of 
John Gore, first lieutenant of the Resolution, a native of America 
as well as myself, and superior to me in command. He recom- 
mended me to Captain Cook to undertake the expedition, with 
which I immediately acquiesced. Captain Cook assured me that 
he was happy I had undertaken it, as he was convinced I should 
persevere ; and after giving me some instructions how to proceed, 
he wished me well, and desired I would not be longer absent than 
a week, if possible, at the expiration of which he should expect 
me to return. If I did not return by that time, he should wait 
another week for me, and no longer. The young chief before 
mentioned and his two attendants were to be my guides. I took 
with me some presents adapted to the taste of the Indians, brandy 
in bottles, and bread, but no other provisions. I went entirely 
unarmed, by the advice of Captain Cook. 

" The first day we proceeded about fifteen miles into the inte- 
rior part of the island, without any remarkable occurrence, until 
we approached a village just before night. This village consisted 
of about thirty huts, some of them large and spacious, though not 
very high. The huts were composed of a kind of slight frame, 
erected over a square hole sunk about four feet into the ground ; 
the frame is covered at the bottom with turf, and upward it is 
thatched with coarse grass. The whole village was out to see us, 
and men, women, and children crowded about me. I was con- 
ducted by the young chief who was my guide, and seemed proud 
and assiduous to serve me, into one of the largest huts. 

" I was surprised at the behavior of the Indians, for, though 
they were curious to see me, yet they did not express that extra- 
ordinary curiosity that would be expected had they never seen a 
European before ; and I was glad to perceive it, as it was an evi- 
dence in favor of what I wished to find true, namely, that there 
were Europeans now among them. The women of the house, 
which were almost the only ones that I had seen at this island, 
were much more tolerable than I expected to find them ; one, in 
particular, seemed very busy to please me ; to her, therefore, I 



144 SELF-MADE MEN. 

made several presents, with which she was extremely well pleased. 
As it was now dark, my young chief intimated to me that we must 
tarry where we were that night, and proceed further the next day, 
to which I very readily consented, being much fatigued. Our en- 
tertainment, the subsequent part of the evening, did not consist of 
delicacies, or much variety ; they had dried fish, and I had bread 
and spirits, of which we all participated. Ceremony was not in- 
vited to the feast, and Nature presided over the entertainment. 

" At daylight, Perpheela (which was the name of the young 
chief that was my guide) let me know that he was ready to go on, 
upon which I flung off the skins I had slept in, put on my shoes 
and outside vest, and arose to accompany him, repeating my pres- 
ents to my friendly hosts. We had hitherto traveled in a north- 
erly direction, but now went to the westward and southward. I 
was now so much relieved from the apprehension of any insult or 
injury from the Indians, that my journey would have been even 
agreeable had I not been taken lame with a swelling in the feet, 
which rendered it extremely painful to walk ; the country was 
also rough and hilly, and the weather wet and cold. About three 
hours before dark we came to a large bay, which appeared to be 
four leagues over. 

" Here my guide, Perpheela, took a canoe and all our baggage, 
and set off, seemingly to cross the bay. He appeared to leave me 
in an abrupt manner, and told me to follow the two attendants. 
This gave me some uneasiness. I now followed Perpheela's two 
attendants, keeping the bay in view ; but we had not gone above 
six miles before we saw a canoe approaching us from the opposite 
side of the bay, in which were two Indians. As soon as my guides 
saw the canoe, we ran to the shore from the hills and hailed them, 
and finding they did not hear us, we got some bushes and waved 
them in the air, which they saw, and stood directly for us. This 
canoe was sent by Perpheela to bring me across the bay, and 
shorten the distance of the journey. 

" It was beginning to be dark when the canoe came to us. It 
was a skin canoe, after the Esquimaux plan, with two holes to 
accommodate two sitters. The Indians that came in the canoe 
talked a little with my two guides, and then came to me and 
desired I would get into the canoe. This I did not very readily 
agree to, however, as there was no other place for me but to be 
thrust into the space between the holes, extended at length upon 



JOHN LEDYAKD. 145 

my back, and wholly excluded from seeing the way I went, or the 
power of extricating myself upon any emergency ; but, as there 
was no alternative, I submitted thus to be stowed away in bulk, 
and went head foremost very swift through the water about an 
hour, when I felt the canoe strike a beach, and afterward lifted 
up and carried some distance, and then set down again ; after 
which I was drawn out by the shoulders by three or four men, 
for it was now so dark that I could not tell who they were, though 
I was conscious I heard a language that was new. 

" I was conducted by two of these persons, who appeared to be 
strangers, about fifty rods, when I saw lights, and a number of 
huts like those I saw in the morning. As we approached one of 
them a door opened, and discovered a lamp, by which, to my joy 
and surprise, I discovered that the two men who held me by each 
arm were Europeans, fair and comely, and concluded from their 
appearance they were Russians, which I soon after found to be 
true. As we entered the hut, which was particularly long, I saw, 
arranged on each side, on a platform of plank, a number of Indians, 
who all bowed to me ; and as I advanced to the further end of the 
hut, there were other Russians. When I reached the end of the 
room, I was seated on a bench covered with fur skins, and as I 
was much fatigued, wet, and cold, I had a change of garments 
brought me, consisting of a blue silk shirt and drawers, a fur cap, 
boots, and gown, all which I put on with the same cheerfulness 
they were presented with. Hospitality is a virtue peculiar to man, 
and the obligation is as great to receive as to confer. 

"As soon as I was rendered warm and comfortable, a table 
was set before me with a lamp upon it ; all the Russians in the 
house sat down round me, and the bottles of spirits, tobacco, snuff, 
and whatever Perpheela had, were brought and set upon it. These 
I presented to the company, intimating that they were presents 
from Commodore Cook, who was an Englishman. One of the 
company then gave me to understand that all the white people I 
saw there were subjects of the Empress Catharine of Russia, and 
rose and kissed my hand, the rest uncovering their heads. I then 
informed them, as well as I could, that Commodore Cook wanted 
to see some of them, and had sent me there to conduct them to 
our ships. 

"These preliminaries over, we had supper, which consisted of 
boiled whale, halibut fried in oil, and broiled salmon. The lat- 

G 



146 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ter I ate, and they gave me rye bread, but would eat none of it 
themselves. They were very fond of the rum, which they drank 
without any mixture or measure. I had a very comfortable bed, 
composed of different fur skins both under and over me, and, be- 
ing harassed the preceding day, I went soon to rest. After I had 
lain down, the Russians assembled the Indians in a very silent 
manner, and said prayers after the manner of the Greek Church, 
which is much like the Roman. 

"I could not but observe with what particular satisfaction the 
Indians performed their devoirs to God through the medium of 
their little crucifixes, and with what pleasure they went through 
the multitude of ceremonies attendant on that sort of worship. 
I think it a religion the best calculated in the world to gain pros- 
elytes, when the people are either unwilling or unable to specu- 
late, or when they can not be made acquainted with the history 
and principles of Christianity without a formal education. 

" I had a very comfortable night's rest, and did not wake the 
next morning until late. As soon as I was up, I was conducted 
to a hut at a little distance from the one I had slept in, where I 
saw a number of platforms raised about three feet from the ground, 
and covered with dry coarse grass and some small green bushes. 
There were several of the Russians already here besides those 
that conducted me, and several Indians, who were heating water 
in a large copper caldron over a furnace, the heat of which, and 
the steam which evaporated from the hot water, rendered the hut, 
which was very tight, extremely hot and suffocating. 

" I soon understood this was a hot bath, of which I was asked 
to make use in a friendly manner. The apparatus being a little 
curious, I consented to it ; but, before I had finished undressing 
myself, I was overcome by the sudden change of the air, fainted 
away, and fell back on the platform I was sitting on. I was, 
however, soon relieved by having cold and lukewarm water ad- 
ministered to my face and different parts of my body. I finished 
undressing, and proceeded as I saw the rest do, who were now 
all undressed. The Indians, who served us, brought us, as we 
sat or extended ourselves on the platforms, water of different tem- 
peratures, from that which was as hot as we could bear, to quite 
cold. The hot water was accompanied with some hard soap and 
a flesh-brush. It was not, however, thrown on the body from the 
dish, but sprinkled on with the green bushes. After this, the 



JOHN LED YARD. 147 

water made use of was less warm, and by several gradations be- 
came at last quite cold, which concluded the ceremony. 

"We again dressed and returned to our lodgings, where our 
breakfast was smoking on the table ; but the flavor of our feast, 
as well as its appearance, had nearly produced a relapse in my 
spirits, and no doubt would, if I had not had recourse to some of 
the brandy I had brought, which happily served me. I was a 
good deal uneasy lest the cause of my discomposure should dis- 
oblige my friends, who meant to treat me in the best manner they 
could. I therefore attributed my illness to the bath, which might 
possibly have partly occasioned it, for I am not very subject to 
fainting. I could eat none of the breakfast, however, though far 
from wanting an appetite. It was mostly of whale, sea-horse, 
and bear, Avhich, though smoked, dried, and boiled, produced a 
composition of smells very offensive at nine or ten in the morn- 
ing. I therefore desired I might have a piece of smoked salmon 
broiled dry, which I ate with some of my own biscuit. 

" After breakfast I intended to set off on my return to the 
ships, though there came on a disagreeable snow-storm ; but my 
neAv-found friends objected to it, and gave me to understand that 
I should go the next day, and, if I chose, three of them would ac- 
company me. This I immediately agreed to, as it anticipated a fa- 
vor I intended to ask them, though I before much doubted wheth- 
er they would comply with it. I amused myself within doors 
while it snowed without, by writing down a few words of the orig- 
inal languages of the American Indians and of the Asiatics, who 
came over to this coast with these Russians from Kamtschatka. 

" In the afternoon the weather cleared up, and I went out to 
see how those Russian adventurers were situated. I found the 
whole village to contain about thirty huts, all of which were built 
partly under ground, and covered with turf at the bottom and 
coarse grass at the top. The only circumstance that can recom- 
mend them is their warmth, which is occasioned partly by their 
manner of construction, and partly by a kind of oven, in which 
they constantly keep a fire night and day. They sleep on plat- 
forms built on each side of the hut, on which they have a num- 
ber of bear and other skins, which render them comfortable ; and 
as they have been educated in a hardy manner, they need little or 
no other support than what they procure from the sea and from 
hunting. 



148 SELF-MADE MEN. 

" The number of Russians were about thirty, and they had 
with them about seventy Kamtschatdales, or Indians from Kamt- 
schatka. These, with some of the American Indians whom they 
had entered into friendship with, occupied the village, enjoyed ev- 
ery benefit in common with the Russians, and were converts to 
their religion. Such other of the aborigines of the island as had 
not become converts to their sentiments in religious and civil mat- 
ters were excluded from such privileges, and were prohibited 
from wearing certain arms. 

" I also found a small sloop of about thirty tons' burden lying 
in a cove behind the village, and a hut near her containing her 
sails, cordage, and other sea equipage, and one old iron three 
pounder. It is natural to an ingenuous mind, when it enters a 
town, a house, or ship that has been rendered famous by any 
particular event, to feel the full force of that pleasure which re- 
sults from gratifying a noble curiosity. I was no sooner informed 
that this sloop was the same in which the famous Behring had 
performed those discoveries which did him so much honor and his 
country such great service, than I was determined to go on board 
of her and indulge the generous feelings the occasion inspired. 

" I intimated my wishes to the man that accompanied me, who 
went back to the village and brought a canoe, in which we went 
on board, where I remained about an hour, and then returned. 
This little bark belonged to Kamtschatka, and came from thence 
with the Asiatics already mentioned to this island, which they 
call Onalaska, in order to establish a pelt and fur factory. They 
had been here about five years, and go over to Kamtschatka once 
a year to deliver their merchandise and get a recruit of such sup- 
plies as they need from the chief factory there. 

" The next day I set off from this village, well satisfied with 
the happy issue of a tour which was now as agreeable as it was 
at first undesirable. I was accompanied by three of the princi- 
pal Russians and some attendants. We embarked at the village 
in a large skin boat, much like our large whale-boats, rowing with 
twelve oars ; and, as we struck directly across the bay, we short- 
ened our distance several miles, and the next day, passing the 
same village I had before been at, we arrived by sunset at the 
bay where the ships lay, and before dark I got on board with our 
new acquaintances. The satisfaction this discovery gave Cook, 
and the honor that redounded to me, may be easily imagined, and 



JOHN LEDYARD, 149 

the several conjectures respecting the appearance of a foreign in- 
tercourse were rectified and confirmed." 

It will be seen that Ledyard's pen was extremely minute, and 
capable of jotting down impressions with much vividness. The 
book from which the above extract is made was written from 
memory, and with the object of allaying the public appetite, which 
had been greatly excited by rumors of the varied incidents of 
Cook's last, sad voyage. We have not the requisite space for 
following the author in his narrative of the cruise, but as Ledyard 
was present at the death of Captain Cook, his description of that 
event will be read with interest. The expedition returned to the 
Society Islands, and remained there for some days refitting and 
making all needful preparations for the voyage to the north pole. 
During their sojourn they were constantly annoyed by the thiev- 
ish propensities of the natives. To put a stop to this, Cook, in 
accordance with his invariable custom, seized some conspicuous 
chief, and held him as hostage until the missing properties were 
returned. Owing to this, a coldness sprung up between the na- 
tives and the English, and it was with the greatest difficulty that 
the latter could obtain a supply of provisions. The events which 
follow occurred in Kearakekua Bay : 

" Our return to this bay," says Mr. Ledyard, " was as disagree- 
able to us as it was to the inhabitants, for we were reciprocally 
tired of each other. They had been oppressed, and we were 
weary of our prostituted alliance, and we were aggrieved by the 
consideration of wanting the provisions and refreshments of the 
country, which we had every reason to suppose, from their be- 
havior antecedent to our departure, would now be withheld from 
us, or brought in such small quantities as to be worse than none. 
What we anticipated was true. When we entered the bay, where 
before we had the shouts of thousands to welcome our arrival, 
we had the mortification not to see a single canoe, and hardly any 
inhabitants in the towns. Cook was chagrined, and his people 
were soured. 

" Toward night, however, the canoes came in, but the provi- 
sions, both in quantity and quality, plainly informed us that times 
were altered ; and what Avas very remarkable was the exor- 
bitant price they asked, and the particular fancy they all at once 
took to iron daggers or dirks, which were the only articles that 
were any ways current, with the chiefs at least. It was also 



150 SELF-MADE MEN. 

equally evident from the looks of the natives, as well as every 
other appearance, that our former friendship was at an end, and 
that we had nothing to do but to hasten our departure to some 
different island where our vices were not known, and where our 
extrinsic virtues might gain us another short space of being won- 
dered at, and doing as we pleased, or, as our tars expressed it, of 
being happy by the month. 

"Nor was their passive appearance of disgust all we had to 
fear, nor did it continue long. Before dark a canoe, with a num- 
ber of armed chiefs, came alongside of us without provisions, and, 
indeed, without any perceptible design. After staying a short 
time only, they went to the Discovery, where a part of them went 
on board. Here they affected great friendship, and, unfortunate- 
ly overacting it, Clerke was suspicious, and ordered two sentinels 
on the gangways. These men were purposely sent by the chief, 
who had formerly been so very intimate with Clerke, and after- 
ward so ill treated by him, with the charge of stealing his jolly- 
boat. They came with a determination of mischief, and effected it. 

" After they were all returned to the canoe but one, they got 
their paddles and every thing ready for a start. Those in the 
canoes, observing the sentinel to be watchful, took off his atten- 
tion by some conversation that they knew would be pleasing to 
him, and by this means favored the designs of the man on board, 
who, watching his opportunity, snatched two pairs of tongs, and 
other iron tools that then lay close by the armorers at work at 
the forge, and, mounting the gangway-rail, with one leap threw 
himself and his goods into the canoe, that was then upon the 
move, and, taking up his paddle, joined the others ; and, standing 
directly for the shore, they were out of our reach almost instan- 
taneously, even before a musket could be had from the arms'-chest 
to fire at them. The sentries had only hangers. 

" This was the boldest exploit that had yet been attempted, and 
had a bad aspect. Clerke immediately sent to the commodore, 
who advised him to send a boat on shore to endeavor to regain 
the goods, if they could not the men who obtained them ; but the 
errand was as ill executed as contrived, and the master of the 
Discovery was glad to return with a severe drubbing from the very 
chief who had been so maltreated by Clerke. The crew were also 
pelted with stones, and had all their oars broken, and they had not 
a single weapon in the boat, not even a cutlass, to defend them- 



JOHN LED YARD. 151 

selves. When Cook heard of this, he went armed himself in per- 
son to the guard on shore, took a tile of marines, and went through 
the whole town demanding restitution, and threatening the delin- 
quents and their abettors with the severest punishments ; but, not 
being able to effect any thing, he came off just at sunset, highly 
displeased, and not a little concerned at the bad appearance of 
things. But even this was nothing to what followed. 

" On the 13th, at night, the Discovery's large cutter, which was 
at her usual moorings at the lower buoy, was taken away. On 
the 14th, the captains met to consult what should be done on 
this alarming occasion ; and the issue of their opinions was, that 
one of the two captains should land with armed boats and a guard 
of marines at Kiverua, and attempt to persuade Teraiobu,who was 
then at his house in that town, to come on board upon a visit, and 
that when he was on board he should be kept prisoner until his 
subjects should release him by a restitution of the cutter ; and if 
it was afterward thought proper, he, or some of the family who 
might accompany him, should be kept as perpetual hostages for 
the good behavior of the people during the remaining part of our 
continuance at Kearakekua. 

" This plan was the more approved of by Cook, as he had so 
repeatedly, on former occasions to the southward, employed it 
with success. Clerke was then in a deep decline of his health, 
and too feeble to undertake the affair, though it naturally devolved 
upon him as a point of duty not well transferable ; he therefore 
begged Cook to oblige him so much as to take that part of the 
business of the day upon himself in his stead. This Cook agreed 
to do ; but, previous to his landing, made some additional arrange- 
ments respecting the possible want of things, though it is certain, 
from the appearance of the subsequent arrangements, that he 
guarded more against the flight of Teraiobu, or those he could 
wish to see, than from an attack, or even much insult. 

"The disposition of our guards when the movement began was 
thus : Cook in his pinnace, with six private marines, a corporal, 
sergeant, and two lieutenants of marines, went ahead, followed 
by the launch, with other marines and seamen, on one quarter, 
and the small cutter on the other, with only the crew on board. 
This part of the guard rowed for Kearakekua. Our large cutter 
and two boats from the Discovenj had orders to proceed to the 
mouth of the bay, form at equal distances across, and prevent any 



152 SELF-MADE MEN. 

communication by water from any other part of the island to the 
towns within the bay, or from those without. Cook landed at 
Kiverua about nine o'clock in the morning, with the marines in 
the pinnace, and went by a circuitous march to the house of Te- 
raiobu, in order to evade the suspicion of any design. This route 
led through a considerable part of the town, which discovered 
.every symptom of mischief, though Cook, blinded by some fatal 
cause, could not perceive it, or, too self-confident, would not re- 
gard it. 

" The town was evacuated by the women and children, who 
had retired to the circumjacent hills, and appeared almost desti- 
tute of men ; but there were at that time two hundred chiefs, and 
more than twice that number of other men, detached and secreted 
in dhTerent parts of the houses nearest to Teraiobu, exclusive of 
unknown numbers without the skirts of the town ; and those that 
were seen were dressed, many of them, in black. When the guard 
reached Teraiobu's house, Cook ordered the lieutenant of marines 
to go in and see if he was at home, and if he was, to bring him 
out. The lieutenant went in, and found the old man sitting with 
two or three old women of distinction ; and when he gave Teraiobu 
to understand that Cook was without and wanted to see him, he 
discovered the greatest marks of uneasiness, but arose and accom- 
panied the lieutenant out, holding his hand. When he came be- 
fore Cook, he squatted down upon his hams as a mark of humil- 
iation, and Cook took him by the hand from the lieutenant, and 
conversed with him. 

" The appearance of our parade, both by water and on shore, 
though conducted with the utmost silence, and with as little osten- 
tation as possible, had alarmed the towns on both sides of the bay, 
but particularly Kiverua, where the people were in complete order 
for an onset ; otherwise it would have been a matter of surprise 
that, though Cook did not see twenty men in passing through the 
town, yet, before he had conversed ten minutes with Teraiobu, 
he was surrounded by three or four hundred people, and above 
half of them chiefs. 

" Cook grew uneasy when he observed this, and was the more 
urgent in his persuasions with Teraiobu to go on board, and ac- 
tually persuaded the old man to go at length, and led him within 
a rod or two of the shore ; but the just fears and conjectures of 
the chiefs at last interposed. They held the old man back, and 



JOHN LED YARD. 15$ 

one of the chiefs threatened Cook when he attempted to make 
them quit Teraiobu. Some of the crowd now cried out that Cook 
was going to take their king from them and kill him, and there 
was one in particular that advanced toward Cook in an attitude 
that alarmed one of the guard, who presented his bayonet and 
opposed him, acquainting Cook, in the mean time, of the danger 
of his situation, and that the Indians in a few minutes would 
attack him; that he had overheard the man whom he had just 
stopped from rushing in upon him say that our boats which were 
out in the harbor had just killed his brother, and he would be 
revenged. 

" Cook attended to what this man said, and desired him to 
show him the Indian that had dared to attempt a combat with 
him, and, as soon as he was pointed out, Cook fired at him with 
a blank. The Indian, perceiving he received no damage from the 
fire, rushed from without the crowd a second time, and threatened 
any one that should oppose him. Cook, perceiving this, fired a 
ball, which entering the Indian's groin, he fell, and was drawn 
off by the rest. 

"Cook, perceiving the people determined to oppose his designs, 
and that he should not succeed without further bloodshed, ordered 
the lieutenant of marines, Mr. Phillips, to withdraw his men, and 
get them into the boats, which were then lying ready to receive 
them. This was effected by the sergeant ; but, the instant they 
began to retreat, Cook was hit with a stone, and, perceiving the 
man who threw it, shot him dead. The officer in the boats, ob- 
serving the guard retreat, and hearing this third discharge, or- 
dered the boats to fire. This occasioned the guard to face about 
and fire, and then the attack became general. 

" Cook and Mr. Phillips were together a few paces in the rear 
of the guard, and, perceiving a general fire without orders, quitted 
Teraiobu and ran to the shore to put a stop to it ; but, not being 
able to make themselves heard, and being close pressed upon by 
the chiefs, they joined the guard, who fired as they retreated. 
Cook, having at length reached the margin of the water, between 
the fire of the boats, waved with his hat for them to cease firing 
and come in ; and while he was doing this, a chief from behind 
stabbed him with one of our iron daggers just under the shoulder- 
blade, and it passed quite through his body. Cook fell with his 
face in the water, and immediately expired. Mr. Phillips, not 

G* 



154 SELF-MADE MEN. 

being able any longer to use his fusee, drew his sword, and, en- 
gaging the chief whom he saw kill Cook, soon dispatched him. 
His guard, in the mean time, were all killed but two, and they 
had plunged into the water and were swimming to the boats. 
He stood thus for some time the butt of all their force ; and be- 
ing as complete in the use of his sword as he was accomplished, 
his noble achievements struck the barbarians with awe ; but, be- 
ing wounded, and growing faint from loss of blood and excessive 
action, he plunged into the sea with his sword in his hand and 
swam to the boats, where, however, he was scarcely taken on 
board before somebody saw one of the marines that had swum 
from the shore lying flat upon the bottom. Phillips, hearing this, 
ran aft, threw himself in after him, and brought him up with him 
to the surface of the water, and both were taken in. 

"The boats had hitherto kept up a very hot fire, and, lying off 
without reach of any weapon but stones, had received no damage, 
and being fully at leisure to keep up an unremitted and uniform 
action, made great havoc among the Indians, particularly among 
the chiefs, who stood foremost in the crowd and were most ex- 
posed ; but whether it was from their bravery, or ignorance of the 
real cause that deprived so many of them of life that they made 
such a stand, may be questioned, since it is certain that they in 
general, if not universally, understood heretofore that it was the 
fire only of our arms that destroyed them. This opinion seems 
to be strengthened by the circumstance of the large, thick mats 
they were observed to wear, which were also constantly kept wet ; 
and furthermore, the Indian that Cook fired at with a blank dis- 
covered no fear when he found his mat unburnt, saying in their 
language, when he showed it to the by-standers, that no fire had 
touched it. This may be supposed to have had at least some in- 
fluence. It is, however, certain, whether from one or both these 
causes, that the numbers that fell made no apparent impression 
on those who survived ; they were immediately taken off, and had 
their places supplied in a constant succession. Lieutenant Gore, 
who commanded as first lieutenant under Cook in the Resolution, 
which lay opposite the place where this attack was made, perceiv- 
ing with his glass that the guard on shore was cut off, and that 
Cook had fallen, immediately passed a spring upon one of the 
cables, and, bringing the ship's starboard guns to bear, fired two 
round shot over the boats into the middle of the crowd ; and both 



JOHN LED YARD. 155 

the thunder of the cannon and the effects of the shot operated so 
powerfully, that it produced a most precipitate retreat from the 
shore to the town." 

With as much expedition as possible, the ships retreated from 
a neighborhood fraught with so much calamity ; proceeded to 
the polar regions in search of the northwest passage, touched 
at Kamtschatka, passed through Behring's Straits, and visited 
many islands in a high latitude, but with no success. The ex- 
pedition then returned home by way of China and the Cape of 
Good Hope, reaching England after an absence of four years and 
three months. 

For two years after this we find no mention of Ledyard, except 
that he remained in the navy, but refused to serve in any of the 
expeditions which were fitted out against his native country. 
The desire of returning, however, induced him in 1782 to obtain 
a transfer to a British man-of-war bound for an American station. 
Fortunately, the destination of the ship was Huntingdon Bay, 
Long Island Sound. Immediately on his arrival he obtained leave 
of absence to visit his mother, who still resided at Southold, where 
she kept a boarding-house, chiefly supported by British officers — 
New York at that time being in possession of the British. He 
had so much changed during his eight years' absence that the 
poor old lady did not know him. It is said that she passed and 
repassed him many times, as if uncertain whether she had seen 
him before. At length she put on her spectacles, and, apologizing 
for the liberty she took in scrutinizing a stranger so closely, said 
that he resembled a son of hers who had been long absent, and 
concerning whose fate nothing was known. The scene that fol- 
lowed must have been affecting, for Ledyard, although a rover, 
was dearly attached to his mother. 

Ledyard's leave of absence was for seven days, but, before the 
expiration of that brief term, he had fully made up his mind to 
return no more to the British service. " I made my escape from 
the British at Huntingdon Bay," he wrote. "I am now at Mr. 
Seymour's, and as happy as need be. I have a little cash, two 
coats, three waistcoats, six pair of stockings, and half a dozen 
ruffled shirts. I am a violent Whig and a violent Tory. Many 
are my acquaintances. I eat and drink when I am asked, and 
visit when I am invited ; in short, I generally do as I am bid. 
All I want of my friends is friendship ; possessed of that, I am 



15G SELF- MADE MEN, 

happy." During this period he wrote his Journal of Cook's Voy- 
age, from which our extracts have been taken. 

Early in the following spring he began to agitate a subject on 
which his heart was fully set — namely, a trading voyage to the 
Northwest Coast of the Pacific — a traffic entirely unknown in 
those days, and which, as subsequent events have proved, is em- 
inently profitable. In turn he applied to all the merchants and 
ship-owners of New York, Boston, and Philadelphia, sometimes 
with apparent success. In this heart-chilling way he spent two 
seasons, and then, satisfied that nothing could be done in Amer- 
ica, he started once more for Europe. He took with him some 
excellent letters of introduction, and, on presenting 4hem to the 
merchants of L' Orient, received immediate encouragement. He 
was requested to remain until the approaching summer, and em- 
ploy himself, in the mean time, in making the necessary prepara- 
tion for the cruise. When the spring came they procured him a 
ship, and every thing promised an immediate consummation of 
his wishes ; but, for some reason which has never been explained, 
all these preparations were in vain. The expedition was aban- 
doned, and Ledyard repaired to Paris to look out for men of more 
energy and speculation. In the latter city he made the acquaint- 
ance of Jefferson, who was the minister from the United States, 
and also of Paul Jones. With each of these he discussed the 
project he had in view, and received much encouragement, espe- 
cially from the latter. He submitted the enterprise, also, to the 
mercantile community of Paris, and some progress was made in 
the organization of a public company. Several months were pass- 
ed in these efforts, which were destined, after all, to prove unavail- 
ing. From inability, unwillingness, or distrust, every one made 
some kind of excuse when the moment arrived for action. At 
length Ledyard crossed the Channel to the English metropolis. 
While in France he had been fortunate enough to make the ac- 
quaintance of an eccentric Englishman, Sir James Hall by name, 
and it was at his invitation that he now repaired to London. 
Much to his astonishment, he there found an English ship in com- 
plete readiness to sail for the Pacific Ocean. Sir James Hall in- 
troduced him to the owners, who immediately offered him a free 
passage in the vessel, with the promise that he should be set on 
shore at any point he chose in the Pacific Ocean — their recom- 
pense being the advantage of having a man so experienced on 



JOHN LEDYARD. 157 

board the vessel. " Sir James Hall," says Mr. Ledyard, " pre- 
sented me with twenty pounds pro bono publico. I bought two 
great dogs, an Indian pipe, and a hatchet. My want of time, as 
well as of money, will prevent my going any otherwise than in- 
differently equipped for such an enterprise." What a queer outfit 
for the Pacific Ocean — two great dogs, an Indian pipe, and a 
hatchet! His intention was now to proceed to Nootka Sound, 
and then strike across the American continent to the Atlantic 
States, thus traversing the land from one side to the other. The 
propitious day arrived. Ledyard embarked, and the vessel float- 
ed down the Thames on her long voyage. There did not seem 
to be the faintest prospect of a fresh disappointment, when sud- 
denly a terrific one loomed up in the distance. An order from 
government arrested the progress of the vessel ; she was seized by 
the custom-house, and eventually exchequered. Thus the expe- 
dition was at once permanently crushed. One would suppose 
that after so many disappointments, so many evidences that Dame 
Fortune was against him, Ledyard would abandon his projects, 
and sink into a helpless condition of wretchedness and despair. 
Not at all. He was now so used to these disappointments that 
they had even ceased to surprise him. The only effect this last 
blow had was to lead him to trust for the future entirely to 
himself. In a letter to his brother he says, "I am going in 
a few days to make the tour of the globe, from London east, on 
foot." There was no possibility of disappointment in this ar- 
rangement. Ledyard's project interested the scientific world of 
London, who saw in his contemplated overland journey the op- 
portunity of obtaining valuable geographical information concern- 
ing regions comparatively unknown. They were willing to as- 
sist him too, and for this purpose a subscription was put on foot, 
which, whatever its amount, was sufficient to start him on his 
journey. 

On the 1st of January, 1789, he arrived at Copenhagen, from 
thence crossed over into Sweden, and reached Stockholm by the 
end of the month. His destination was St. Petersburg, for which 
purpose it was necessary that he should cross the Gulf of Both- 
nia. In the winter this is usually effected in sledges, but occa- 
sionally it happens that the water is not sufficiently frozen for 
this kind of passage, although too thickly covered with floating 
ice to admit of vessels crossing in safety. Under these perplex- 



158 SELF MADE MEN. 

ing circumstances it became necessary to travel round the Gulf, 
a distance of twelve hundred miles, through Lapland and the 
Arctic Circle, in order to reach the opposite point, which, under 
favorable circumstances, is only fifty miles distant. Such was 
the state of things when Ledyard arrived at the usual place of 
crossing. The only alternative was to stay in Stockholm till 
the spring should open, or to go around the Gulf into Lapland, 
and so reach St. Petersburg. With very little deliberation, he ar- 
rived at the latter determination, and at once started on foot to 
perform the perilous journey. Unfortunately, we have no record 
of this remarkable act of pedestrianism, or of the innumerable ad- 
ventures that must have attended it. On the 20th of March 
Ledyard reached Petersburg — that is, within seven weeks of the 
time of leaving Stockholm — making the average distance traveled 
about two hundred miles per week. "I can not tell you," he 
says, in one of his letters, "by what means I came to Petersburg, 
and hardly know by what means I shall quit it in the further 
prosecution of my tour round the world by land. If I have any 
merit in the affair, it is perseverance, for most severely have I 
been buffeted ; and yet still am even more obstinate than before ; 
and Fate, as obstinate, continues her assaults. How the matter 
will terminate I know not. The most probable conjecture is that 
I shall succeed, and be buffeted around the world as I have hith- 
erto been from England through Denmark, through Sweden, Swe- 
dish Lapland, Swedish Finland, and the most unfrequented parts 
of Russian Finland, to this aurora borealis of a city." 

After remaining a short time in St. Petersburg, Ledyard start- 
ed once more, in company with a Scotch physician, who was trav- 
eling on state business, and who accompanied our hero for a dis- 
tance of upward of three thousand miles. It is probable that he de- 
frayed his expenses too, for Ledyard' s funds were wretchedly low, 
consisting, in fact, of the remains of twenty pounds which he had 
raised in St. Petersburg. How he succeeded in getting from place 
to place, mixing wherever he went in the best society, is indeed al- 
ways a mystery. He was, unquestionably, a presentable, courteous, 
and charming man, one of those whose blandness and decision of 
character pass them into the ranks of the wealthy and educated as 
a matter of course. At Barnaoul, Ledyard parted company with 
Dr. Brown. " LIow I have come thus far," he writes to his fa- 
vorite correspondent, Mr. Jefferson, " and how I am to go still 



JOHN LED YARD. 159 

farther, is an enigma that I must disclose to you on some happier 
occasion. I shall never be able, without seeing you in person, and 
perhaps not then, to tell you how universally and circumstantially 
the Tartars resemble the aborigines of America. They are the 
same people, the most ancient and the most numerous of any 
other, and, had not a small sea divided them, they would all have 
been still known by the same name. The cloak of civilization 
sits as ill upon them as upon our American Tartars. They have 
been a long time Tartars, and it will be a long time before they 
will be any other kind of people." 

From Bamaoul to Irkutsk he traveled post, a distance of 1155 
miles ; from the latter place to Yakutsk, a distance of 1500 miles, 
in a vessel down the Eiver Lena, traveling at the rate of eighty 
or a hundred miles per day. On the 18th of September he ar- 
rived at Yakutsk in safety. Lodgings were provided for him by 
order of the commandant, but, to his dismay, he was informed 
that the season was too far advanced to admit of his going far- 
ther north until the spring. " What, alas ! shall I do ?" he ex- 
claims, piteously, in his journal, " for I am miserably prepared for 
this unlooked-for delay. By remaining here through the winter 
I can not expect to resume my march until May, which will be 
eight months. My funds ! I have but two long frozen stages 
more, and I shall be beyond the want or aid of money, until, 
emerging from the deep deserts, I gain the American Atlantic 
States ; and then, thy glowing climates, Africa, explored, I will 
lay me down, and claim my little portion of the globe I have 
viewed. May it not be before % How many of the noble mind- 
ed have been subsidiary to me or to my enterprises ! yet that 
meagre demon, Poverty, has traveled with me hand in hand over 
half the globe, and witnessed what — the tale I will not unfold. 
* * * This is the third time I have been overtaken and ar- 
rested by winter, and both the others, by giving time for my evil 
genius to rally his hosts about me, have defeated the enterprise. 
Fortune, thou hast humbled me at last, for I am this moment the 
slave of cowardly solicitude, lest in the heart of this dread winter 
there lurk the seeds of disappointment to my ardent desire of 
gaining the opposite continent. But I submit." 

The commandant, who seems to have been a very good fellow, 
invited Ledyard to the hospitalities of his house, but, unfortunately, 
Ledyard was badly off for clothes, and had but thirty shillings in 



1(30 SELF-MADE MEN. 

his pocket to get a fresh stock with. Even in Siberia, where hos- 
pitality is the fashion, this state of things was disheartening. How- 
ever, he seems to have cheered up and made the best of it. Dur- 
ing his forced stay he employed his time profitably in making in- 
quiries concerning the country, and especially concerning the vari- 
ous Tartar tribes which he had met in Russia and Siberia. The 
results of his investigations were summed up in a letter to Mr. 
Jefferson, from which we extract. " I am certain that all the 
people you call red people on the continent of America, and on 
the continents of Europe and Asia, as far south as the southern 
parts of China, are all one people, by whatever names distinguish- 
ed, and that the best general name would be Tartar. I suspect 
that all red people are of the same family. I am satisfied that 
America was peopled from Asia, and some, if not all, its animals 
from thence. I am satisfied that the great general analogy in the 
customs of men can only be accounted for by supposing them all 
to compose one family ; and, by excluding the idea and uniting 
customs, traditions, and history, I am satisfied that this common 
origin was such, or nearly, as related by Moses, and commonly be- 
lieved among the nations of the earth. There is also a transpo- 
sition of things on the globe that must have been produced by 
some cause equal to the effect, which is vast and curious. Whether 
I repose on arguments drawn from facts observed by myself, or 
send imagination forth to find a cause, they both declare to me a 
general deluge." His journal, written here, contains a great deal 
of observant critical matter, jotted down hastily, with no view to 
direct publication. We have but room for the following eulogy 
on woman, and then must hurry on : "I have observed among 
all nations that the women ornament themselves more than the 
men ; that, wherever found, they are the same kind, civil, obliging, 
humane, tender beings ; that they are ever inclined to be gay and 
cheerful, timorous and modest. They do not hesitate, like man, 
to perform a hospitable or generous action ; not haughty, nor ar- 
rogant, nor supercilious, but full of courtesy and fond of society ; 
industrious, economical, ingenuous ; more liable in general to err 
than man, but in general, also, more virtuous, and performing more 
good actions than he. I never addressed myself in the language 
of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civilized or sav- 
age, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man 
it has often been otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains 



JOHN LED YARD. 161 

of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, frozen Lapland, 
rode and churlish Finland, unprincipled Eussia, and the wide- 
spread regions of the wandering Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, 
or sick, woman has ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so ; 
and to add to this virtue, so worthy of the appellation of benevo- 
lence, these actions have been performed in so free and so kind a 
manner, that if I was dry, I drank the sweet draught, and if hun- 
gry, ate the coarse morsel with a double relish." 

The weariness of his winter captivity in Yakutsk was thus re- 
lieved by the exercises of composition, hasty and imperfect to be 
sure, but exciting to an imagination alive with the freshness of 
the things described. An unexpected surprise was in store for 
him while in the midst of these employments. He had not been 
quite two months in his winter quarters when the town was 
aroused from its usual lethargy by the arrival of Captain Billings, 
who was employed by the Empress of Russia on a mission for 
exploring the northeastern regions of her territory, and who came 
now from his expedition to superintend the construction of cer- 
tain boats necessary for farther explorations. Billings was an old 
acquaintance of Ledyard's ; they had served together on Cook's 
voyage, and were mutually astonished to meet thus unexpectedly 
in the heart of Siberia. He was now on his way to Irkutsk, and, 
needing a companion, invited Ledyard to accompany him back to 
that town. The latter was of course glad of any opportunity of 
killing time, and at once cheerfully assented, intending to return 
in the spring and prosecute his journey northward. They start- 
ed on the 29th of December, and traveled in sledges up the River 
Lena, on the ice, with such rapidity that in seventeen days they 
covered the distance, fifteen hundred miles. 

Having leisure and companions, Ledyard enjoyed himself in 
society, and made the most of the long, dreary evenings, now that 
he could do so. The following extract from Sauer's "Account 
of a Geographical and Astronomical Expedition to the Northern 
parts of Russia" will explain how this period of repose was 
brought to a sudden close : "In the evening of the 24th of Feb- 
ruary," says Sauer, " while I was playing at cards with the brig- 
adier and some company of his," a secretary belonging to one of 
the courts of justice came in, and told us, with great concern, that 
the governor general had received positive orders from the em- 
press immediately to send one of the expedition, an Englishman, 



162 SELF-MADE MEN. 

under guard, to the private inquisition at Moscow, but that he 
did not know the name of the person, and that Captain Billings 
was with a private party at the governor general's. Now, as 
Ledyard and I were the only Englishmen here, I could not help 
smiling at the news, when two hussars came into the room, and 
told me that the commandant wished to speak to me immediate- 
ly. The consternation into which the visitors were thrown is 
not to be described. I assured them that it must be a mistake, 
and went with the guards to the commandant. 

" There I found Mr. Ledyard under arrest. He told me that 
he had sent to Captain Billings, but he would not come to him. 
He then began to explain his situation, and said he was taken up 
as a French spy, whereas Captain Billings could prove the con- 
trary, but he supposed that he knew nothing of the matter, and 
requested that I would inform him. I did so, but the captain as- 
sured me that it was an absolute order from the empress, and that 
he could not help him. He, however, sent him a few rubles, and 
gave him a pelisse ; and I procured him his linen quite wet from 
the wash-tub. Ledyard took a friendly leave of me, desired his 
remembrance to his friends, and, with astonishing composure, leap- 
ed into the kibitka, and drove off, with two guards, one on each 
side. I wished to travel with him a little way, but was not per- 
mitted. I therefore returned to my company, and explained the 
matter to them." 

In this cruel manner were all his schemes once more frustrated. 
He was hurried to Moscow, and then, without any investigation 
of the ridiculous charge of being a French spy, ordered to quit 
the Russian dominions, and informed that if he returned he would 
assuredly be hanged. The actual cause of his arrest appears to 
be shrouded in much mystery. It is probable, however, that it 
arose from the jealous unwillingness of Russia to have her new 
possessions on the western coast of America examined by a for- 
eigner, especially when she had an expedition on the spot for the 
purpose of examining them herself for her own private advantage. 

We hear little of Ledyard after this severe rebuff until we find 
him once more -in London, after an absence of one year and five 
months. Here he found his old friend, Sir Joseph Banks, ready 
to receive him with open arms. All the incidents of his eventful 
journey were listened to with eagerness, and Ledyard received 
the sympathy of one man of science for another. Sir Joseph 



JOHN LED YARD. 163 

questioned him about his future movements, and recommended to 
his attention an expedition to Central Africa, which the African 
Association were anxious to have undertaken. Nothing could 
have given Ledyard greater satisfaction than this project. It 
was with a light and elastic step that he left Sir Joseph, and made 
his way to the rooms of the association. The secretary was struck 
With the manliness of his person, the breadth of his chest, the 
openness of his countenance, and the inquietude of his eye. He 
spread the map of Africa before him, and, tracing a line from 
Cairo to Sennaar, and from thence westward in the latitude and 
supposed direction of the Niger, told him that was the route by 
which the association were anxious that Africa might, if possible, 
be explored. Ledyard replied that he should consider himself 
singularly fortunate to be trusted with the venture. The secre- 
tary then asked him when he would be ready to set out. Led- 
yard replied, "To-morrow morning." The association immedi- 
ately closed with a man who displayed such fearless promptitude 
and eagerness, but they were, of course, unable to dispatch him 
on the following morning. On the 30th of June he left London, 
and proceeded through France to the Mediterranean, thence to 
Alexandria, where he passed ten days, and then up the Nile to 
Cairo, where he arrived on the 19th of August. Having letters 
of introduction to the British consul, he found no difficulty in 
procuring such information as he needed for the prosecution of 
his journey. His intention was to join a caravan bound to the 
interior, and continue with it to the end of its route. After that 
he would have to be guided entirely by circumstances. He pass- 
ed three months in Cairo studying the habits of the people he was 
about to associate with, and in otherwise preparing himself. 

His zeal in these respects was attended with the most melan- 
choly end. Exposure to the action of the sun produced a bilious 
complaint, and he treated it, with no apprehensions of its result, 
in the usual way, with vitriolic acid. The quantity he took was 
excessive, and produced burning pains, that threatened to be fatal 
unless immediate relief could be procured. A powerful dose of 
tartar emetic was administered, but in vain. The principal doc- 
tors of Cairo were called in, but their advice was impracticable 
and too late. In the thirty-eighth year of his age, he was doomed 
to end his strange career in this unfortunate and miserable way. 
The precise day of his death is not known, but it was toward the 



lb'4 SELF-MADE MEN. 

end of November, 1788. He was decently interred, and his re- 
mains were followed to the grave by many European residents in 
the capital of Egypt. 

It is impossible to read the history of John Ledyard without 
experiencing the keenest sensation of regret that a career so en- 
ergetic and promising was thus abruptly terminated. A more 
unfortunate man it would be hard to find in the world. His life 
was one constant struggle against poverty, but the cheerfulness of 
his disposition made him underrate the actual hardships beneath 
which he was constantly groaning. He was so accustomed to 
disappointments that they ceased to excite his indignation. With 
a steadiness of purpose which can not be too largely imitated, he 
entered upon the execution of his plans, totally indifferent to the 
obstacles which surrounded him. The one great object of his life 
he may be said to have accomplished, namely, to travel through 
the Russian possessions to the coast of America. A desire near- 
ly as strong as this was to penetrate into the central parts of Af- 
rica. Under circumstances of peculiar good luck he started on 
this enterprise. For the first time in his life he was backed by 
liberal patrons, and discomfort arising from scanty means seemed 
impossible. With natural gayety and ardor he started for the 
burning land of the African, when death, as if dissatisfied with 
his triumph, smote him, and he fell in the pride of manhood and 
strength. 

The following description of Mr. Ledyard is from the pen of 
Mr. Beaufoy, Secretary of the African Society. " To those who 
have never seen Mr. Ledyard, it may not, perhaps, be uninterest- 
ing to know that his person, though scarcely exceeding the middle 
size, was remarkably expressive of activity and strength ; and that 
his manners, though unpolished, were neither uncivil nor unpleas- 
ing. Little attentive to difference of rank, he seemed to consider 
all men as his equals, and as such he respected them. His genius, 
though uncultivated and irregular, was original and comprehen- 
sive. Ardent in his wishes, yet calm in his deliberations ; daring 
in his purposes, but guarded in his measures ; impatient of con- 
trol, yet capable of strong endurance ; adventurous beyond the 
conception of ordinary men, yet wary and considerate, and atten- 
tive to all precautions, he appeared to be formed by nature for 
achievements of hardihood and peril." 







STEPHEN GIKAKD. 

Concerning the early history of this eccentric and remarkable 
man we know but little, except that he was a native of France, 
and born in the environs of Bordeaux, on the 24th of May, 1750. 
His parents were in very humble circumstances, and Girard does 
not appear to have been indebted to them for any advantage be- 
yond the essential one of birth. It is probable that his early years 
were passed in much misery, for he never desired to return to the 
scene of them. Gratitude, which is certainly a feature in the 
character of most self-made men, did not infuse warmth into 
Girard's heart, and even his parents were not remembered witli 
the usual prompt affection of nature. Of education he had but 
little, being barely able to read his own language. The knowledge 
of this deficiency weighed heavily on his mind through life, and 
was undoubtedly one cause of that munificence which has given 
lasting interest to his name. 

He is supposed to have left France at the early age of ten or 
twelve years, in the capacity of a cabin-boy, bound for the West 
Indies. Many causes have been assigned for this step ; among 



166 SELF-MADE MEN. 

others, soreness at being ridiculed for a blind eye, and ill-treatment 
from his parents. The most probable reason is, that he left France 
because he thought he could do better elsewhere. He did not re- 
main in the West Indies for any length of time, but proceeded in 
his vessel to New York, from which port he afterward sailed as 
an apprentice. When the term of his indenture had expired, he 
abandoned the sea as a profession, and embarked his small sav- 
ings in little semi-mercantile, semi-nautical ventures. The sound 
judgment he displayed in these matters was not without its result. 
Every day he made an addition to his capital, until finally it had 
swollen to proportions ample enough to purchase an interest in a 
small vessel which plied between New York and New Orleans, 
of which he took command. 

In 1769 he removed to Philadelphia, and in the following year 
married Miss Polly Lum, a young lady remarkable for her beauty. 
It is said that Girard "fell in love" with Miss Lum under very 
peculiar, if not romantic circumstances. The fascinating creature 
was a servant in the family of Colonel Walter Shee, and Girard's 
first interview was in the open street, where he beheld the damsel, 
destitute of shoes and stockings, and operating on a pump. She 
was a beautiful brunette of sixteen, with a wide reputation for 
modesty and charms — a reputation which was fully sustained by 
her subsequent but short elevation in society. The match was 
an unfortunate one, and productive of much wretchedness to both 
parties. After his marriage he rented a small house in Water 
Street, and continued his business in the mercantile and seafaring 
way. In 1771 he entered into partnership with Mr. Hazelhurst, 
of Philadelphia, for the purpose of carrying on trade with the 
island of St. Domingo. Two brigs were purchased, and of one 
of these Girard took the command. On the passage both were 
captured and sent to Jamaica, thereby breaking up the adventure, 
dissolving the partnership, and sadly dissappointing the owners. 
Much censure was thrown upon Girard for not defending his ves- 
sel, as it had been expressly furnished with an armament to make 
resistance if attacked. It can not now be ascertained, and, indeed, 
is no longer interesting, whether this censure be just or not. It 
may be remarked, however, that Girard was not the kind of man 
to lose his property cheerfully. If he had seen a way of preserv- 
ing it, we may safely conclude that he would have done so. From 
1772 to 1776 there is no distinct trace of his movements. He 



STEPHEN GIRARD. 167 

followed the profession of sea-captain, and voyaged to those places 
where the most money could be made ; but the extreme danger of 
maritime property, owing to the incessant watchfulness of British 
cruisers, induced him to seek his fortunes in the store rather than 
on the deep. Consequently, he opened a small grocery in Water 
Street, to which he attached a bottling establishment for claret 
and cider. Here he contrived to drive a profitable trade until the 
approach of the British army in 1777, when, with five hundred 
dollars which he had saved, he purchased a small farm at Mount 
Holly, and removed his store and business, so as to be out of 
harm's way. Here he continued his bottling business, and by 
supplying the American army, which was in the neighborhood, 
managed to turn an honest penny. In 1779 he returned to Phila- 
delphia, and we find him occupying a range of frame stores on the 
east side of Water Street. A gentleman who at this period saw 
him nearly every day describes him as a plain and simply-attired 
man — so much so that even then he went by the general appel- 
lation of Old Girard, and was an object of curiosity in his junk- 
shop as much as any other article there. He made a few mari- 
time adventures to the south with moderate success, but the de- 
pressed state of the country was unfavorable to the immediate ac- 
cumulation of wealth. The St. Domingo trade, however, proved 
highly remunerative, and enabled him, in 1782, to brave the dull- 
ness of the times, and secure upon lease a range of frame and brick 
stores and dwellings. The terms were extremely moderate, the 
trade and commerce of the city being then at its lowest ebb. 
Girard, with the penetration of a man destined to become a mil- 
lionaire, knew that a reaction must soon take place, and that these 
buildings would then be of inestimable value. His lease was for 
ten years, and contained a proviso that if, at the expiration of that 
period, Girard was willing to continue the occupancy, it might be 
renewed for ten years more. From the rent of these stores and 
dwellings Girard realized enormous profits. On the day of the 
expiration of the term of his first lease, he waited on Mr. Stiles, 
his landlord, for the stipulated renewal. Mr. Stiles, anticipating 
his object, observed, " Well, Mr. Girard, you have made out so well 
by your bargain that I suppose you will hardly hold me to the 
renewal of the lease for ten years more." " I have come," re- 
plied Mr. Girard, "to secure the ten years more; I shall not let 
you off." 



168 SELF-MADE MEN. 

After this, his brother, Captain John Girard, arriving in this 
country, the two brothers entered into copartnership, under the 
firin of Stephen & John Girard, in connection with a firm at Cape 
Francaise, under the name of Girard, Bernard & Lacrampe, who 
were then prosecuting a highly lucrative commerce to the West 
Indies. The brothers were not at all fraternal in temper, and for 
a long time were merely united by pecuniary interests. Stephen 
was grasping, parsimonious, and authoritative, while John had 
some little sentiment in his composition, which made him yearn 
for something beside the unscrupulous accumulation of wealth. 
A rupture took place, the firm was dissolved, and it was agreed 
to call in an umpire to adjust and settle their concerns (1790). 
At that period Stephen had fallen behind his brother either in 
the acquisition of money or the disparity of his capital invested 
in the concern ; for, upon the settlement of the respective portions, 
John was found to be worth sixty thousand dollars, while Stephen, 
with all his closeness, possessed but thirty thousand. Several years 
after the dissolution, John (who had a family) died in the West 
Indies, leaving Stephen executor of his will. For some eccentric 
reason, the latter never informed his nieces of the fortune they 
inherited, but reared them in total ignorance of the fact. It was 
not until the marriage of Antoinette to Mr. Hemphill that he 
rendered an account of his brother John's estate, and astonished 
his nieces with a knowledge of their good fortune. 

Immediately after the dissolution of partnership he recom- 
menced his career as a ship-owner, and in a short time built four 
vessels, and dispatched them on voyages to China and the East 
Indies. His mind was now bent on the accumulation of riches, 
and the only enjoyment he permitted himself was the pursuit of 
this object. His biographer says that his sympathies were not 
with the common race of merchants or the every-day order of 
men. His ambition was to be rich, not that he might enjoy rich- 
es, but that he might die a millionaire, and so leave his name to 
posterity. It is scarcely probable that he possessed the faculty of 
enjoying himself, or, if he did, it was so intimately mixed up with 
making money that it assumed all the appearance of intense bus- 
iness application. Of domestic bliss he knew little or nothing. 
His wife had long been an inmate of a lunatic asylum, where she 
was destined to pass the remainder of her days in wretched cap- 
tivity. Possibly her lot had not been of the happiest. Men of 






STEPHEN GIKAKD. 169 

Girard's temperament do not make good husbands, and we look 
in vain for the first indication of kindliness in his domestic rule. 
A daughter was born to him, but the poor weakly thing died, in 
spite of all the promise of Girard's wealth. At the period of 
which we are writing, Girard was unquestionably a crusty, plod- 
ding, penurious man, singularly repulsive in his appearance, and 
awkward and vulgar in his address. It was with the greatest 
difficulty that he could express himself in broken English, and 
never did so if there was an opportunity of speaking French. 
" Sympathy, feeling, friendship, pity, love, or commiseration," 
says his biographer, who is also his apologist and eulogist, " were 
emotions that never ruffled the equanimity of his mind, at least 
to such a degree as to relax his energy of accumulation, or impair 
the mass of money that rose like mountains round about him. 
Friends, relations, old companions, confidential agents, or the gen- 
eral family of mankind, might sicken and die around him, and he 
would not part with his money to relieve and save one among 
them." The dark coloring of this picture leaves us but little to 
expect from a man so hopelessly abandoned to Mammon ; yet a 
bright and extraordinary trait of goodness manifested itself. In 
1793, Philadelphia was desolated with the plague. The horrors 
of that frightful visitation have been so often described that it is 
unnecessary to rehearse them now. Husbands deserted their 
wives ; children their parents ; every one, in fact, who could rush 
from the scene of destruction, did so. The instinct of preserva- 
tion rose paramount above all other considerations, and scenes of 
the most revolting and unnatural character were the inevitable 
result of a general panic. Among the poorer classes the mortal- 
ity and suffering were of course greatest. The impossibility of 
getting proper attendance and medical skill pressed with fatal 
weight upon them. Many of these evils the rich could avoid. If 
they were attacked, their money obtained for them the best phy- 
sicians in the city ; if they were well, it carried them into the 
country, beyond the reach of infection. It would have been ex- 
cusable if Stephen Girard, like thousands of his fellow-townsmen, 
had thus consulted his personal safety by flight. To the surprise 
of every one, however, he not only staid, but volunteered his serv- 
ices to nurse the sick. "VVe quote from Mr. Carey's pamphlet : 
"At a meeting on Sunday, September loth, a circumstance oc- 
curred to which the most glowing pencil could hardlv do justice. 

H 



170 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Stephen Girard, a wealthy merchant, a native of France, and one 
of the members of the committee, sympathizing with the wretch- 
ed situation of the sufferers at Bush Hill, voluntarily and unex- 
pectedly offered himself as a manager to superintend that hospi- 
tal. The surprise and satisfaction excited by this extraordinary 
spirit of humanity can be better conceived than expressed. Peter 
Helm, a native of Pennsylvania, also a member, actuated by the 
like benevolent motives, offered his services in the same depart- 
ment. Their offers were accepted ; and the same afternoon they 
entered on the execution of their dangerous and praiseworthy of- 
fice. To form a just estimate of the value of the offer of these 
citizens, it is necessary to take into consideration the general con- 
sternation which at that period pervaded every quarter of the city, 
and which caused attendance on the sick to be regarded as little 
less than a certain sacrifice. Uninfluenced by any reflections of 
this kind, without any possible inducement but the purest motives 
of humanity, they magnanimously offered themselves as the for- 
lorn hope of the committee." An anecdote is related by Mr. 
Simpson, which illustrates in an astonishing way the remarkable 
fortitude and courage of Girard at this dreadful crisis. 

A Mr. T had been induced, like most other citizens, to move 

with his family out of Philadelphia, to avoid the ravages of the 
yellow fever, which was then making fearful havoc. Previous 
engagements, however, rendered it necessary for him to visit the 
city almost every day, and, unfortunately, his presence was de- 
manded in Walnut Street, a few doors below Second. This was 
a fearful neighborhood, as the fever was raging in a shocking de- 
gree in "Farmer's Row," leading from Dock Street, only a few 

doors from his place of resort. For several days Mr. T felt 

that he was earning the name of a man of courage at a fearful 
risk, to venture into such a vicinity; but his business was im- 
perative, and he continued to yield to its demands, of course with 
all those precautions which science or kindness suggested. One 

day Mr. T turned the corner of Walnut and Second Street, 

and went a few steps down the latter street until he came oppo- 
site the avenue called Farmer's Row. There pestilence had 
chased away every vestige of business ; there was nothing to break 
the almost unearthly silence of the place, or give an idea that mo- 
tion was an attribute of any object within view. He stood gaz- 
ing at the buildings that contained the victims, living and dead, 



STEPHEN GIRARD 171 

of the appalling disease, when suddenly the approach of a car- 
riage, driven rapidly by a black man, broke the silence of the 
place. The carriage was driven up in front of one of the frame 
buildings on the Row. The driver laid his whip back upon its 
top, bound his handkerchief close to his mouth, opened the door 
of his vehicle, and resumed his seat. A short, thick-set man 
stepped from the coach, and went into one of the abodes of wretch- 
edness. Interested in the result of such a movement, involving 
such imminent danger, Mr. T pressed his camphorated hand- 
kerchief closer to his face, and withdrew as far as he could with- 
out losing sight of the carriage and the house. His movement 
enabled him to look, though from a distance, into the door of the 
tenement. Shortly afterward he saw a slow movement on the 
stairs, as if some person was descending with difficulty. No 
noise, however, was heard, nor did there appear to be any other 
movement in the house. In a few minutes he distinguished the 
object of his solicitude approaching the outer door; at length he 
stood full in his view on the pavement. The man who had left 
the carriage had been into one of the chambers of the house, and 
had taken thence a human being, who had probably been left 
without the least attendance, suffering with the yellow fever. The 
size of the sufferer did not allow the visitor to take him up in the 
best mode for conveying him. As they were on the pavement, the 
right arm of the man partly supported the sick person, while the 
left arm was pressed close to his emaciated body, so as to prevent 
his falling ; the feet of the sick man touched the ground, and his 
yellow, cadaverous face rested against the cheek of his conductor. 
Every breath he exhaled poured over the nostrils and mouth of 
his supporter a volume of putrid effluvium, while his hair, long 
from neglect, and knotted and matted with filth, added to the dis- 
gusting and fearful spectacle. In this situation the well man 
partly carried and partly dragged the sufferer to the carriage, in 
Avhich, with great exertion and after much time, he succeeded in 
placing him ; the driver, of course, refusing to aid in such a dan- 
gerous enterprise. The door of the carriage was drawn to by the 
person inside, and then they were driven slowly off, the sick man 
lying in the arms of the person who had brought him from hi* 
wretched abode. Who the sick man was Mr. T did not in- 
quire ; but he who risked so much to help a human being that 
had no claims of consanguinity or friendship upon his services — 



172 SELF-MADE MEN. 

he who thus did good to others at such an imminent hazard to 
himself, was Stephen Girard. 

What a remarkable compound of mean selfishness and noble 
philanthropy is found in the character of this strange man ! Un- 
willing to give a dollar to save his dearest friend from destruc- 
tion, yet voluntarily jeopardizing his life to assuage the sufferings 
of strangers. His office in the hospital was of the most alarming 
kind ; he had to encourage and comfort the sick, to hand them 
necessaries and medicines, to wipe the sweat of their brows, and 
to perform many disgusting offices of kindness for them, which 
nothing could render tolerable but the exalted motives that im- 
pelled him to this heroic conduct. 

We dwell on this incident with peculiar pleasure, because it is 
the only one worth recording in the life of Girard — at all events, 
the only one which seems to have been dictated by purely disin- 
terested motives. His philanthropy was too often the result of 
keen, calculating, selfish motives. He would give money for the 
erection of churches (dealing out hundreds and thousands with 
unsparing hand), but it was always necessary that the church 
should be in some location likely to benefit his property. Of in- 
dividual wants he was totally indifferent ; the moans of the suf- 
fering, the hollow cry of the famished, the lamentations of the 
widowed and fatherless, never reached his ears. If he gave to be- 
nevolent institutions, it was that he might be remembered in the 
blazoned subscription list, and not that he conceived the necessity 
of such institutions. In a word, he was a thoroughly wretched 
being, utterly unworthy of imitation or even remembrance. The 
Giver of all things sometimes selects an unworthy instrument to 
perform His behests, and Girard was sent into the world to do 
good, although with a repulsiveness that did not suggest benefi- 
cence. It was, as we have before remarked, his ambition to be 
remembered and respected after death. For the living he cared 
nothing. The good opinion of his fellow-man (a worldly prize 
that the poorest may possess) he treated with contempt, and at 
any moment would sacrifice it for a cent. Overbearing, grasp- 
ing, tyrannous, and mean, he looked on those around him as so 
many tools. If they were sharp and expeditious, he was willing 
to use them ; but the moment they had been applied in the right 
way, he cast them from him. Gratitude for their services (which 
were sometimes of inestimable value to him) never entered his 



STEPHEN GIRARD. 173 

mind. His career was one of horrible closeness. He gave the 
smallest wage for the largest amount of work, and if there was 
an opportunity of pulling down a poor fellow's salary, after many 
years of devoted labor, he pulled it down without a moment's hes- 
itation. In a country where the pursuit of riches is conducted in 
the most liberal spirit, and where paltry meanness is utterly un- 
known, the character of Girard naturally excited disgust. His 
wealth gave him a certain influence which had to be respected, 
but his acts were viewed with contempt by every American with 
whom he came in contact. 

If a man start in life with the determination to eschew all its 
social obligations, he is at once in a position of advantage toward 
his neighbor which must lead to his own aggrandizement. By 
dint of indefatigable industry and unscrupulous stinginess, Girard 
found his hoards increasing daily, until he was in a position to 
become proprietor of a public bank, and to take government loans 
to any amount. One step on the ladder of riches secures anoth- 
er. The command of a bank enabled Girard to extend his com- 
mercial transactions, and to enter on fields of commerce which 
were closed to smaller capitalists. With such advantages, it was 
no unusual stroke of luck that netted him half a million of dol- 
lars at a single venture. Thus he amassed the immense fortune 
which it was his mission to leave behind for the public good. It 
would be tedious and unprofitable to follow his career more mi- 
nutely. 

For some time previous to the illness which terminated his ca- 
reer, Mr. Girard underwent the gradual breaking up of constitu- 
tion common to men of great age, but he never relaxed in his 
business application. In 1826 he was violently attacked with 
the erysipelas in his head and legs, which confined him to his 
house for several weeks, and finally left him much debilitated. 
Unable to attend at the bank, he transacted its business at home. 
Every day his cashier visited him with the bills offered for dis- 
count, and took his views concerning them. On partly recover- 
ing, he altered his mode of living (he was fond of good dinners), 
and adopted a vegetable diet, which he persisted in to the day of 
his death. He continued, as might be expected, to grow weaker, 
his eyesight became more dim, and he found it difficult to walk 
the streets with safety. "In the year 1830," says Mr. Simpson, 
" I have often discovered him groping in the vestibule of his bank, 



174 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and feeling about for the door without success. Still he would 
suffer no one to attend on or assist him." The result of this 
proud obstinacy was an accident. In crossing a street he was 
knocked down by a wagon, the wheel of which struck the side of 
his face, lacerating the flesh, and tearing off the greater part of his 
right ear. He walked home, but an examination of the wound 
showed that it was more serious and extensive than was at first 
imagined, and he suffered a long confinement. He lost nearly 
the whole of his right ear, and the eye, before but slightly open, 
was now entirely closed. The pain occasioned by the wound and 
the necessary operations of the doctor seriously affected his con- 
stitution, and left it exposed to the prey of other diseases. In the 
following year (1831) he was attacked with bronchitis. Fitful in- 
sanity or partial derangement quickly succeeded, which, increas- 
ing from day to day, terminated in unconsciousness and utter pros- 
tration. He refused to take medicine, and on the 26th of De- 
cember, 1831, departed this life, in the 82d year of his age. The 
only emotion excited by the event was one of curiosity to know 
how old Girard had disposed of his property, amounting to ten mill- 
ions of dollars. " The moment the true character of his bequests 
was known," says Mr. Simpson, " a loud shout of applause and ad- 
miration filled the public press, and flowed from every tongue, suc- 
ceeded by a profound sentiment of gratitude and esteem for the 
man, the citizen, and the philanthropist. Surprise and increduli- 
ty for a time divided the minds of men. His friends were disap- 
pointed, and his enemies disarmed ; Prejudice confessed she had 
done him injustice, and Charity wept that she had ever deemed 
him hard of heart. Perhaps the anxiety as well as depth of the 
emotions excited by his unique will in the public mind were never 
before equaled." 

It is melancholy to reflect that the only gratitude excited by 
the life-efforts of an individual should be confined to that brief 
period allotted to the formation of his will ; that the only ad- 
mirable act of his life was the one which was consummated by 
death. Yet this was the case with Girard. It is charitable to 
believe that the extreme parsimony of his life was a part of a 
large plan of philanthropy which it was his ambition to perfect, 
and which, requiring millions, demanded economy. Whether a 
man discharge the obligations of wealth by thus penuriously grind- 
ing the last penny out of those around him, thus shutting out 



STEPHEN GIRARD. 175 

the sympathies, the fellowship, and good opinion of the world, may 
well admit of donbt. The test of a man's life is the example he 
presents for the imitation of others. Judged by this standard, 
Girard certainly falls short. There is nothing whatever in his 
life worthy of hearty commendation save his disinterested conduct 
during the yellow fever crisis. He was mean, tyrannous, igno- 
rant, and utterly destitute of religious sentiment. Even the credit 
of having devoted his enormous wealth to worthy objects is miti- 
gated by the fact that, after all, a man must do something with 
the money he has accumulated ; he can not carry it with him to 
the grave. 

The following is a list of the public bequests under the testa- 
mentary documents of Stephen Girard. His desire to be remem- 
bered " forever" is very observable : 

1. To the " Contributors of the Pennsylvania Hospital" the 
sum of §30,000, to remain part of their capital "forever." 

2. To the " Pennsylvania Institution for the Deaf and Dumb" 
the sum of $20,000. 

3. To " the Orphan Asylum of Philadelphia" the sum of $10,000. 

4. To the " Controllers of the Public Schools for the City and 
County of Philadelphia" the sum of $10,000, for the use of the 
schools " upon the Lancaster system." 

5. To the " Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens of Philadelphia" 
the sum of $10,000, in trust, to safely invest the same in some 
productive fund, and with the interest and dividends arising there- 
from, to" purchase fuel between the months of March and August 
in every year " forever," and in the month of January in every 
year "forever," distribute the same among poor white house- 
keepers and room-keepers of good character residing in the city 
of Philadelphia. 

6. To the " Society for the Eelief of Poor and Distressed Mas- 
ters of Ships, their Widows and Children," the sum of $10,000. 

7. To the trustees of the " Masonic Loan" the sum of $20,000, 
to remain " forever" a permanent fund or capital. 

8. To " Trustees of Passyunk Township" the sum of $6000, 
to erect a schoolhouse. 

9. To the " Corporation of the City of New Orleans" real es- 
tate, consisting of a thousand acres of land, appurtenances, and 
thirty slaves, in trust, after twenty years' inheritance by Judge 
Bree, to be applied to such uses and purposes as they shall con- 



170 SELF-MADE MEN. 

sider most likely to promote the health and general prosperity of 
the inhabitants of the city of New Orleans. 

10. To the "Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens of Philadelphia," 
their successors and assigns, in trust, all the residue and remain- 
der of his real and personal estate, to and for the several uses, 
intents, and purposes hereinafter mentioned and declared of and 
concerning the same. So far as regarded his real estate in Penn- 
sylvania, in trust, that no part should be sold, but should " for- 
ever" be let, from time to time, to good tenants at yearly or other 
rents, the profits arising therefrom to be applied toward keeping 
that part of said real estate constantly in good repair, and toward 
improving the same whenever necessary by erecting new build- 
ings, and that the nett residue be applied to the same uses and 
purposes as are herein declared of and concerning the residue of 
his personal estate. And so far as regards his real estate in 
Kentucky, to sell and dispose of the same, whenever it may be 
expedient to do so, and to apply the proceeds of such sale to the 
same uses and purposes as are herein declared of and concerning 
the residue of his personal estate. And so far as regards the 
residue of his personal estate, in trust, as to two millions of dol- 
lars part thereof, to apply and expend so much of that sum as 
may be necessary in erecting on his square of ground, between 
High and Chesnut Streets, and Eleventh and Twelfth Streets, 
Philadelphia (which square of ground he devotes to the purpose 
forever), a permanent college, with suitable out-buildings, suffi- 
ciently spacious for the residence and accommodation of at least 
three hundred scholars, and the requisite teachers and other per- 
sons necessary in such an institution, and in supplying the said 
college and out-buildings with decent and suitable furniture, as 
well as books and all things needful to carry into effect his general 
design. Concerning the construction of the building he gives ex- 
plicit directions, which it is only necessary to say have been car- 
ried out. He directs that a room in this building most suitable 
for the purpose shall be set apart for the reception and preserva- 
tion of his books and papers, and carefully preserved therein. 
His plate and furniture of every sort he directs his executors to 
place in one of the out-buildings of the college. When the col- 
lege and appurtenances shall have been constructed, and supplied 
with plain and suitable furniture and books, philosophical and 
experimental instruments and apparatus, and all other matters 
needful to carry his general design into execution, the income, 



STEPHEN GIRARD. 177 

issues, and profits of so much of the said sum of two millions of 
dollars as shall remain unexpended shall be applied to maintain 
the said college according to his directions, which are as follows : 

1. The institution shall be organized as soon as practicable, 
and to accomplish that purpose more effectually, due public notice 
of the intended opening of the college shall be given, so that there 
may be an opportunity to make selections of competent instructors 
and other agents, and those who may have the charge of orphans 
may be aware of the provisions intended for them. 

2. A competent number of instructors, teachers, assistants, and 
other necessary agents shall be selected, and, when needful, their 
places from time to time supplied. They shall receive adequate 
compensation for their services ; but no person shall be employed 
who shall not be of tried skill in his or her proper department, of 
established moral character, and in all cases persons shall be chosen 
on account of their merit, and not through favor or intrigue. 

3. As many poor white male orphans, between the ages of six 
and ten years, as the said income shall be adequate to maintain, 
shall be introduced into the college as soon as possible ; and from 
time to time, as there may be vacancies, or as increased ability from 
income may warrant, others shall be introduced. 

4. On the application for admission, an accurate statement 
should be taken, in a book prepared for the purpose, of the name, 
birth-place, age, health, condition as to relatives, and other par- 
ticulars useful to be known of each orphan. 

5. No orphan should be admitted until the guardians or directs 
ors of the poor, or a proper guardian, or other competent author^ 
ity, shall have given, by indenture, relinquishment, or otherwise, 
adequate power to the mayor, aldermen, and citizens of Philadel- 
phia, or to directors or others by them appointed, to enforce, in 
relation to each orphan, every proper restraint, and to prevent 
relatives or others from interfering with or withdrawing such or- 
phans from the institution. 

6. Those orphans for whose admission application shall first be 
made shall be first introduced, all other things concurring ; and 
at all future times, priority of application shall entitle the appli- 
cant to preference in admission, all other things concurring ; but 
if there shall be at any time more applicants than vacancies, and 
the applying orphans shall have been born in different places, a 
preference shall be given, first, to orphans born in the city of 

H 2 



178 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Philadelphia ; secondly, to those born in any other part of Penn- 
sylvania; thirdly, to those born in the city of New York (that 
being the first port on the continent of North America at which 
Girard first arrived); and, lastly, to those born in the city of New 
Orleans (being the first port of the said continent at which he first 
traded, in the first instance as first officer, and subsequently as 
master and owner of a vessel and cargo). 

7. The orphans admitted into the college shall be there fed 
with plain but wholesome food, clothed with plain but decent ap- 
parel (no distinctive dress ever to be worn), and lodged in a plain 
but safe manner. Due regard shall be paid to their health, and 
to this end their persons and clothes shall be kept clean, and they 
shall have suitable and rational exercise and recreation. They 
shall be instructed in the various branches of a sound education, 
comprehending reading, writing, grammar, arithmetic, geography, 
navigation, surveying, practical mathematics, astronomy, natural, 
chemical, and experimental philosophy, the French and Spanish 
languages (he does not forbid, nor does he recommend, the Greek 
and Latin languages), and such other learning and science as the 
capacities of the several scholars may merit or warrant : he would 
rather have them taught facts and things than words or signs. 
And especially he desires that, by every proper means, a pure at- 
tachment to our republican institutions, and to the sacred rights 
of conscience as guaranteed by our happy Constitutions, shall be 
formed and fostered in the minds of the scholars. 

8. Should it unfortunately happen that any of the orphans ad- 
mitted into the college shall, from malconduct, have become unfit 
companions for the rest, and mild means of reformation prove 
abortive, they should no longer remain therein. 

9. Those scholars who shall merit it shall remain in the col- 
lege until they shall respectively arrive at between fourteen and 
eighteen years of age ; they shall then be bound out by the may- 
or, aldermen, and citizens of Philadelphia, or under their direc- 
tion, to suitable occupations, as those of agriculture, navigation, 
arts, mechanical trades, and manufactures, according to the ca- 
pacities and acquirements of the scholars respectively, consulting, 
as far as prudence shall justify it, the inclinations of the several 
scholars as to the occupation, art, or trade to be learned. 

In relation to the organization of the college and its append- 
ages, he leaves, necessarily, many details to the mayor, aldermen, 
and citizens of Philadelphia, and their successors ; and he does so 






STEPHEN GIEARD. 179 

with the more confidence, as, from the nature of his bequests and 
the benefits to result from them, he trusts that his fellow-citizens 
of Philadelphia will observe and evince special care and anxiety in se- 
lecting members for their city councils, and other agents. 

There were, however, some restrictions, which he considered it 
his duty to prescribe, and to be, among others, conditions on 
which his bequest for said college is made and enjoyed : first, he 
enjoins and requires that if, at the close of any year, the income 
of the fund devoted to the purposes of the said college shall be 
more than sufficient for the maintenance of the institution during 
that year, then the balance of the said income, after defraying 
such maintenance, shall be forthwith invested in good securities, 
thereafter to be and remain a part of the capital ; but in no event 
shall any part of the capital be sold, disposed of, or pledged to 
meet the current expenses of the said institution, to which he de- 
votes the interest, income, and dividends thereof exclusively; 
secondly, he enjoins and requires that no ecclesiastic, missionary, or 
minister of any sect whatsoever, shall ever hold or exercise any station 
or duty whatever in the said college ; nor shall any such person ever be 
admitted for any purpose, or as a visitor, within the premises appro- 
priated to the purposes of the said college. In making this restric- 
tion, he says, he does not mean to cast any reflection upon any 
sect or person whatsoever ; but as there is such a multitude of 
sects, and such a diversity of opinion among them, he desires to 
keep the minds of the orphans who are to derive advantage from 
this bequest free from the excitement which clashing doctrines 
and sectarian controversy are so apt to produce. His desire is, 
that all the instructors and teachers in the college shall take pains 
to instill into the minds of the scholars the purest principles of mo- 
rality, so that, on their entrance into active life, they may from 
inclination and habit evince benevolence toward their fellow-creatures, 
and a love of truth, sobriety, and industry, adopting, at the same 
time, such religious tenets as their matured reason may enable 
them to prefer. 

If the income arising from that part of the said sum of two 
millions of dollars remaining after the construction and furnish- 
ing of the college and out-buildings shall, owing to the increase 
of the number of orphans applying for admission, or other cause, 
be inadequate to the construction of new buildings, or the main- 
tenance and education of as many orphans as may apply for ad- 
mission, then such farther sum as may be necessary for the con- 



180 SELF-MADE MEN. 

struction of new buildings and the maintenance and education of 
such farther number of orphans as can be maintained and in- 
structed within such buildings as the said square of ground shall 
be adequate to, shall be taken from the final residuary fund here- 
inafter expressly referred to for the purpose, comprehending the 
income of his real estate in the city and county of Philadelphia, 
and the dividends of his stock in the Schuylkill Navigation Com- 
pany ; his design and desire being that the benefits of said insti- 
tution should be extended to as great a number of orphans as the 
limits of the said square and buildings therein can accommodate. 

For the improvement of various parts of the city of Philadel- 
phia Mr. Girard bequeaths the sum of five hundred thousand dol- 
lars in trusts for the purposes specified ; also the sum of three- 
hundred thousand dollars for the purpose of internal improvement 
by canal navigation. The residue of his property he bequeaths 
in trust to be invested in good securities, and the income thereof 
applied, 

1st. To the farther improvement and maintenance of the afore- 
said college. 

2d. To enable the corporation of the city of Philadelphia to 
provide more effectually for the security of the persons and prop- 
erty of the said city, by a competent police, including a sufficient 
number of watchmen really suited to the purpose. 

3d. To enable the said corporation to improve the city proper- 
ty and the general appearance of the city itself, and in effect to 
diminish the burden of taxation. To all of which objects he di- 
rects the income arising from the fund aforesaid to be devoted 
"forever." 

The will from which the above abstract is taken was executed 
on the 16th of February, 1830. Four months later Mr. Girard 
published a codicil, declaring it to be his intention, and directing 
that the orphan establishment provided for in his will, instead of 
being built, as therein directed, upon his square of ground be- 
tween Iligh and Chestnut Streets and Eleventh and Twelfth 
Streets in the city of Philadelphia, should be built upon the es- 
tate then recently purchased from Mr. Parker, and consisting of 
the mansion-house, out-buildings, and forty-five acres and some 
perches of land, called Peel Hill, on the Ridge Road, in Penn 
Township. The square of ground originally intended for the site 
he constitutes and declares to be a part of the residue and re- 
mainder of his real and personal estate. 



SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 

When the early history of America shall be shrouded in the 
dim traditions of the past, the life-story of Sir William Phips will 
seem like a legend built of men's fancies, and not based upon the 
realities of the day. There is nothing more romantic in our vol- 
ume. 

Phips was born on the 2d of February, 1651, at Woolwich, 
in Maine, a small settlement near the mouth of the River Kenne- 
bec. His father was a robust Englishman, a gunsmith by trade, 
and the parent of no fewer \Jian twenty-six children, all by one 
mother. At an early age, William (who was one of the youn- 
gest) had to look out for himself. The death of his father placed 
him in the responsible position of head of the family. Until his 
eighteenth year he gained a scanty income by tending sheep, but 
his adventurous disposition was not content with the primeval 
simplicity of this occupation. He longed to become a sailor, and 
roam through the world. At first he was unable to change occu- 
pations with the facility he expected. He could not get a situa- 
tion as a sailor, so he apprenticed himself to a ship-builder. It 
is probable that he learned this lucrative trade in a very thorough 
manner, for we find him afterward in Boston pursuing it with suc- 
cess, and devoting his leisure hours to reading and writing. In 
addition to these accomplishments, he found time to make love to 
a rich widow, and with such success that he married her, in spite 
of some disparity in age. Immediately after this he went into 
business as a ship-builder, and constructed a vessel on Sheepscot 
River. Having in due time launched the craft, he engaged to 
procure a lading of lumber, and return to Boston. He consoled 
his wife with the assurance that he would some day get the com- 
mand of a king's ship, and become the owner "of a fair brick 
house in the Green Lane of North Boston." In those days, 
brick houses were as aristocratic as marble palaces in our time. 

These magnificent visions were not to be immediately realized. 
Phips and his ship appear to have lived an industrious, plodding 
sort of life for at least ten years, and without any particularly 
golden results. He did little jobs at his ship-yard, and per- 



182 SELF-MADE MEN. 

formed short coasting voyages, all the while dreaming of better 
times, and sighing that they were still so distant. One day, as 
he strolled through the crooked streets of Boston, he heard the 
sombre-looking merchants talking to each other about a ship- 
wreck that had occurred near the Bahamas. It was a Spanish 
vessel, and was known to have money on board. Phips walked 
straight down to his vessel, shipped a few hands, and sailed for 
the Bahamas without farther delay. It was exactly the sort of 
enterprise for his ardent nature. He succeeded in finding the 
wreck, and in recovering a great deal of its cargo, but the value 
of it scarcely defrayed the expenses of the voyage. He was told, 
however, of another and more richly-laden vessel which had been 
wrecked near Port de la Plata more than half a century before, 
and which was known to contain treasure to an enormous amount. 
Phips immediately conceived the idea of fishing up this wealth ; 
but, as he was too poor to undertake the operation without assist- 
ance, he proceeded to England, while the fame of his recent expe- 
dition was new in people's mouths, and succeeded in persuading 
the government to go into the matter. He arrived in London in 
1684, and, before the expiration of the year, was appointed to 
the command of the Rose-Algier, a ship of eighteen guns and 
ninety-five men. The first part of the destiny he had marked out 
for himself was now fulfilled — he was the commander of a king's 
ship. 

When you want to find a thing that has been lost, some knowl- 
edge of the locality where the loss occurred is certainly useful ; but 
Phips started with very vague ideas on the subject, extending mere- 
ly to a general indication of the coast on which the ship had foun- 
dered. He was light of heart, however, and full of hope. Per- 
haps he thought it was all right so long as he had ship and crew. 
The latter, however, began to grow dissatisfied, and, when they 
had fished in the depths of old ocean for some time without bring- 
ing up any thing but sea- weed, and gravel, and bits of rock, they 
mutinied outright, and demanded that the immediate object of the 
voyage should be relinquished. They rushed upon the quarter- 
deck and bullied the commander, but they could not intimidate 
him. He got the better of them every time they attempted it. 
On one occasion the ship had been brought to anchor at a small 
and uninhabited island for the purpose of undergoing some repairs. 
It was found necessary to lighten the vessel by removing some of 



SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 183 

her stores to the shore. The ship was then brought down by the 
side of a rock stretching out from the land, and a bridgeway con- 
structed, so that an easy communication from the shore was estab- 
lished. The crew had a good deal of time to spare while the car- 
penters were at work, and, like all idle boys, they got into mischief. 
They plotted to overthrow Phips and the few men he had with 
him on board, seize the vessel, and start on a piratical cruise 
against Spanish vessels in the South Sea. Phips and his adhe- 
rents, if they objected to this arrangement, were to be put to death. 
Only one man did they care about saving, and that was the prin- 
cipal ship-carpenter. They thought his services might be useful. 
To this worthy they imparted their design, informing him, more- 
over, that if he did not join in its execution, they would put him 
to instant death. The ship-carpenter was an honest fellow, and 
in his heart despised these mean traitors. It was necessary to be 
prudent, however, so he told them that he would give them an 
answer in half an hour, and, in the mean time, collect his tools. 
He returned to the ship, and, by pretending to be suddenly sick, 
found an opportunity of telling the captain what was brewing, in 
spite of the watchfulness of those around him. Phips was per- 
fectly cool ; bade him return with the others, and leave the rest to 
him. In a brief address, he told the few men who were on board 
what was about to take place, and, finding them loyal, immediately 
commenced adopting measures of precaution and defense. A few 
of the ship's guns had been removed with the stores to the land, 
and planted in such a manner as to defend them. He caused the 
charges to be drawn from these, and their position reversed, and 
then he removed all the ammunition to the frigate. The bridge 
communicating with the land was taken up, and the ship's guns 
loaded and trained so as to command all approaches to the en- 
campment. When the mutineers made their appearance, they 
were hailed by Phips, and warned that if they approached the 
stores they would be fired upon. Knowing the man, they re- 
spected this intimation, and kept at a respectful distance, while 
Phips and the few faithful fellows he could spare for the purpose 
removed the stores from the island to the ship under cover of the 
guns. The prospect of being left on the island with nothing to 
eat and drink soon brought the mutineers to terms, and they 
threw down their arms, and begged for permission to return ta 
their duty. This request was granted when suitable precautions 



184 SELF-MADE MEN. 

had been taken to deprive them of any future ability to do mischief. 
When Phips touched port, he thought it best for his own safety 
and for the welfare of the expedition to get rid of his troublesome 
crew, and ship another less disposed to piracy. 

Soon after this, Phips gained precise information of the spot 
where the Spanish treasure-ship had sunk. He proceeded to it, 
but, before his explorations were any way complete, he had to re- 
turn to England for repairs. The English Admiralty pretended 
to be immensely pleased with his exertions, but would not again 
intrust him with the command of a national vessel. He had, 
therefore., to appeal to private individuals. In a short time he 
had secured the interest of the Duke of Albemarle, who, with a 
few other gentlemen, fitted out a vessel and gave him the com- 
mand. A patent was obtained from the king giving to the com- 
pany an exclusive right to all the wrecks that might be discover- 
ed for a number of years. A tender was also provided for navi- 
gating shallow water where the ship could not venture. Having 
manned and equipped his vessel, he started once more for Port 
de la Plata, and arrived in safety at the reef of rocks where the 
Spanish vessel was supposed to lie. A number of Indian divers 
were employed to go down to the bottom, and the ship's crew 
dredged in every direction, but with no success. Just as they 
were leaving the reef one day in despair, a sailor observed a cu- 
rious sea-plant growing in what appeared to be a crevice of the 
rock. He told a diver to fetch it for him, and, when the red 
gentleman came up again, he said that there were a number of 
ships' guns in the same place. The news was received with in- 
credulity, but in a very little time it was ascertained to be sub- 
stantially correct. Presently a diver returned with a bar of solid 
silver in his arms worth two or three hundred pounds sterling, and 
every one knew that the wreck had been discovered. " Thanks 
be to God, we are all made !" was all that Phips could say. In 
the course of a few days treasure was recovered to the amount of 
a million and a half of dollars. 

In 1687 Phips reached England, surrendered his treasure to 
his employers, paid the seamen their promised gratuity, and took 
for his own share a nice little fortune of eighty thousand dollars. 
In consideration of his integrity, King James made the New En- 
gland sea-captain a knight, and thenceforward he was known as 
Sir William Phips. He was desired, also, to remain in England, 



SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 185 

but his heart was on the other side of the Atlantic ; so he shipped 
his fortune, and packed up a golden cup, worth five thousand dol- 
lars, which the Duke of Albemarle sent to his wife, and once more 
returned to his native land. Prior to his departure, he interest- 
ed himself with the king to obtain a restitution of rights to his 
fellow-countrymen, but without success. He succeeded, however, 
in gaining a commission as high sheriff of New England, and re- 
turned with the patriotic object of exercising any power he might 
possess to the advantage of his fellow-countrymen. 

The first thing he did on his return was to gratify his wife's 
ambition, and fulfill the other condition of his youthful prediction, 
namely, to build " a fair brick house in Green Lane." After 
this he tried to exercise his powers as sheriff, but the governor 
of the colony opposed him, and, in spite of all his efforts, he was 
unable to enter upon a discharge of the duties intrusted to him by 
King James. Naturally indignant at this slight of a royal patent, 
he determined on undertaking another voyage to England, and in 
1687 arrived in that country. He found things much changed. 
His old patron, King James, had been driven from the throne by 
an indignant people, and William and Mary reigned in his place. 
From politic motives, the latter were friendly to Phips, sympa- 
thized with him, and offered him the governorship of New En- 
gland ; but this he declined. Seeing that there was no other im- 
mediate prospect for him, and unwilling to sacrifice his time in 
unavailing attendance at court, he returned to America in the 
summer of 1689. An Indian war, fomented by the French, was 
waging, and, although unfamiliar with military life, Phips volun- 
teered his services. He was not immediately employed, but his 
patriotism was understood and appreciated. It became necessa- 
ry to deal the French a severe blow, in order to put a stop to the 
encouragement they were constantly giving the Indians. For this 
purpose, the General Court, in January, 1690, issued the follow- 
ing order : " For the encouragement of such gentlemen and mer- 
chants of this colony as shall undertake to reduce Penobscot, St. 
John's, and Port Royal, it is ordered that they shall have two 
sloops of war for three or four months at free cost, and all the 
profits which they can make from our French enemies, and the 
trade of the places which they may take, till there be other orders 
given from their majesties." This offer was too tempting for Sir 
William ; once more he offered himself, and was invested with 



186 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the command of all the forces raised for the expedition, and of 
the shipping and seamen employed therein. Sir William's in- 
structions were too curious to be omitted in this place. He was 
ordered " to take care that the worship of God be maintained and 
duly observed on board all the vessels ; to offer the enemy fair 
terms upon summons, which if they obey, the said terms are to be 
duly observed ; if not, you are to gain the best advantage you may, 
to assault, kill, and utterly extirpate the common enemy, and to 
burn and demolish their fortifications and shipping ; having re- 
duced that place, to proceed along the coast, for the reducing of 
the other places and plantations in the possession of the French 
to the obedience of the crown of England." One would scarcely 
suppose that the worship of God was compatible with the killing 
and utterly extirpating His creatures. 

Phips reached Port Royal on the 11th of May, and achieved 
an easy victory over the surprised and unprepared garrison. He 
took possession in the name of the English government, demol- 
ished the fort, and administered the oath of allegiance to those 
who were prepared to take it. He then appointed a governor, 
left a small garrison, and set sail on his return, heavily laden with 
public and private spoils. On his way home he landed at the 
various settlements, and took formal possession of the sea-coast 
from Port Royal to Penobscot. The entire province of Acadia 
was thus subdued, and remained in possession of the English un- 
til its restitution in 1697. On his return Sir William was elect- 
ed to the Board of Assistants. 

The extremely successful issue of this first undertaking against 
the French encouraged the colonists to pitch into their neighbors 
on a still larger scale ; and, accordingly, an expedition against 
Quebec was fitted out, the command of which was intrusted to 
Sir William Phips. The fleet sailed on the 9th of August, 1690. 
It was divided into three squadrons, one of thirteen vessels, and 
two of nine each. They proceeded to the mouth of the St. Law- 
rence, and arrived there in safety, but, owing to ignorance of the 
stream, their progress was very slow, and calculated to afford the 
enemy every opportunity for preparing elaborate defenses. At 
length Phips arrived before Quebec, and a messenger was sent 
on shore with a summons to the governor to surrender. The 
messenger barely returned with his life. The governor, Fron- 
tenac, indignant at the request, flung the letter in his face, and 



SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 187 

shouted out fiercely that " Sir William Phips and those with him 
were heretics and traitors, and had taken up with that usurper, 
the Prince of Orange, and had made a revolution, which, if it had 
not been made, New England and the French had all been one ; 
and that no other answer was to be expected from him but what 
should be from the mouth of his cannon." 

To attack a fortified city requires something more than mere 
physical bravery ; it demands a high amount of military knowl- 
edge, and a thorough perception of accidental advantage. Phips 
was entirely ignorant of military tactics, and therefore gave the 
command of the land forces to an officer who boasted of greater 
knowledge, himself retaining command of the fleet. After innu- 
merable delays a landing was effected, but the troops were badly 
supplied with ammunition and provisions, and were hemmed in 
and starved from the moment they first set foot on the soil. The 
French, assisted by their Indian allies, harassed them on every 
side, and decimated their numbers by drawing them into skirm- 
ishes which led to no result. Phips carried his ships up to the 
town, and blazed away at the stone walls ; but the stone walls re- 
fused to tumble down, and all his powder was expended in vain. 
The enemy, on the contrary, poured in torrents of effective shot. 
For five days a state of confusion prevailed, every day making 
matters worse. The men were exhausted and dispirited, for they 
saw that both their commanders were incapable. The cold weath- 
er began to freeze their limbs, and wound them more cruelly than 
the sword. Provisions and ammunitions were growing scarcer 
and scarcer, and every thing save the enemy seemed to wear a look 
of despair. At length a violent storm arose ; many of the ves- 
sels were driven from their anchorage, and the remainder availed 
themselves of the opportunity of getting out of the river as speed- 
ily as possible. Thus ended the expedition against Quebec. Mis- 
fortunes pursued the fleet even at sea. The weather was so 
stormy that the vessels could not be kept together. One ship 
was never heard of after the separation ; another w r as wrecked ; 
and another — a fire-ship — was burned at sea. Four other ves- 
sels were blown so far out of their course that they did not reach 
Boston for five or six weeks after the arrival of Phips. 

The failure of the expedition was a great blow to the colonial 
government. They had fitted it out on credit, depending on 
plunder for the payment of the soldiers and a nice little profit for 



188 . SELF-MADE MEN. 

themselves. To get out of the difficulty with the best grace pos- 
sible, they issued paper notes on the faith of the colony. It was 
all they could do, for there was no money in the treasury. At 
first it was supposed this ingenious expedient would be successful ; 
but every day the bills sank lower and lower in public credit, and 
the poor soldiers who had been paid with them could only get 
fourteen shillings for every pound on their face. 

The defeat before Quebec rankled in Phips's mind, and, as there 
seemed to be no immediate prospect of employment in the colony, 
he determined on another voyage to England, with the view of 
inducing the king to fit out a fresh expedition against the French. 
In this he was disappointed, but his voyage was not without a 
result. Increase Mather was at that time eagerly agitating the 
matter of a new charter for the colony, the old one having been 
taken away in consequence of royal displeasure, and the colony 
being thus without any legal guaranty of its rights. After much 
vexatious delay, the king consented to the issuing of another char- 
ter on condition that the delegates should name a governor known 
to the crown, and yet popular with the people of Massachusetts. 
If he had wished to nominate Phips, he could not have more accu- 
rately described the man. Notwithstanding his Canadian failure, 
he was still eminently popular at home, and his curious history 
was well known abroad. Increase Mather, on behalf of the other 
agents, consequently nominated Phips, and a commission was ac- 
cordingly prepared under the great seal, by which Sir William 
Phips was appointed captain general and governor-in-chief of 
the province of Massachusetts Bay in New England. With this 
document in his pocket, he returned to his native country in May, 
1692. On the following Monday he was conducted from his own 
house to the town-house by a large escort of military and a num- 
ber of the principal gentlemen of Boston and the vicinity. 

Sir William Phips was a very unhappy governor. With every 
disposition in the world to be lenient, kind, and just, he found 
that he could not avoid making enemies. The new charter was 
not considered satisfactory, and Sir William Phips, the principal 
officer under it, had to bear all the odium it excited. His author- 
ity was disputed in the most vexatious way, and an opposition 
sprung up which daily gained strength. There were other men, 
too, who wanted to be governor, and their hostility, having a direct 
object, was of the most active kind. Sir William became cross 



SIR WILLIAM PHIPS. 189 

with the world, and broke out into wild fits of passion, all of which 
increased his unpopularity. At length the discontents went so 
far as to petition the crown that he might be removed, and an- 
other governor appointed in his stead. Beside this, two gentle- 
men, whom Phips had thrashed for disputing his authority, pre- 
ferred their complaints to the king, and the Lords of the Treas- 
ury, together with the Board of Trade, united in the request that 
the governor might be displaced. The king refused to condemn 
the governor unheard, but invited him to visit England and de- 
fend himself. Sir William accordingly left Boston on the 17th of 
November, 1694, and proceeded to London. It was the last time 
he ever crossed the Atlantic. 

On his arrival he was subjected to fresh annoyances, such as 
being arrested by the assaulted gentlemen before mentioned, and 
held to heavy bail ; but, in spite of these, we are assured by Cotton 
Mather that he was triumphant in his vindication, and received 
assurances of being restored to office. While these things were 
going on, he amused himself with two new schemes : one for sup- 
plying the English navy with timber and naval stores from the 
eastern parts of New England, the other for going into the ship- 
wreck-fishing business again. The prosecution of these designs 
was, however, brought to an unexpected termination. About the 
middle of February, 1695, he took cold, and was immediately con- 
fined to his chamber. Fever ensued, and on the 18th of the month 
he died. Few men in the world have had more experience than 
Sir William Phips ; yet he was but forty-five years of age. In 
that brief period he had raised himself from the condition of a 
plowboy to the highest office recognized in his country, from 
poverty to wealth, from insignificance to esteem. In the words 
of his best biographer,* " Fortune befriended him only when he 
had earned her favors by ceaseless industry and the most indom- 
itable perseverance. He succeeded in enterprises so hopeless at 
first fight that men of sober judgment would never have engaged 
in them, and after failures and discouragements which would have 
caused persons of ordinary prudence to give up the attempt in 
despair. He enjoyed a large fortune, acquired solely by his own 
exertions ; but he was neither purse-proud, parsimonious, nor 
extravagant. Far from concealing the lowness of his origin, he 

• Francis Bowcii, 



190 SELF-MADE MEN. 

made it a matter of honest pride that he had risen from the busi- 
ness of a ship-carpenter to the honors of knighthood and the gov- 
ernment of a province. Soon after he was appointed to the chief 
magistracy, he gave a handsome entertainment to all the ship- 
carpenters of Boston ; and, when perplexed with the public busi- 
ness, he would often declare that it would be easier for him to go 
back to his broad-axe again. He was naturally of a hasty temper, 
and was frequently betrayed into improper sallies of passion, but 
never harbored resentment long. Though not rigidly pious, he 
reverenced the offices of religion, and respected its ministers, He 
was credulous, but no more so than most of his better-educated 
contemporaries. The mistakes which he committed as a public 
officer were palliated by perfect uprightness of intention, and by 
an irreproachable character in private life ; for even his warmest 
opponents never denied him the title of a kind husband, a sincere 
patriot, and an honest man." 




DANIEL BOONE. 

Daniel Boone, the mighty hunter of the West, and pioneer of 
Kentucky, was born in Bucks County, Pennsylvania, in the month 
of February, 1735. His parents were of English birth, and Dan- 
iel was the sixth of a family of eleven children. Of education he 
received but little, at least of the kind then taught in the hedge 
schools of the frontier settlements. Perhaps book-knowledge was 
of less value to him than that other knowledge which he seems 
to have picked up from his earliest youth, namely, the knowledge 
of directing the rifle with unerring precision, of observing the 
habits of wild beasts, and of noting the least indication of the ap- 
proach or presence of an Indian. At a time when the only guar- 
anty of a man's life was his ability to keep it, these points of a 
practical education were all important. 

When Daniel was in his eighteenth year he removed with his 
parents to North Carolina, and settled on the waters of the Yad- 
kin, where he had ample opportunities for indulging his favor- 
ite pastime, and found plenty of game to reward his expertness. 
Here, also, he married. There is a pretty little story which says 
that Boone was out hunting one day, and saw in a thicket before 
him what he supposed to be the large beautiful eyes of a deer. In 



192 SELF-MADE MEN. 

an instant the rifle was at his shoulder, and in another the trigger 
would have been drawn but for a terrified little scream, which 
admonished the hunter that he was wrong in his game this time. 
Presently a charming girl, with large, flashing hazel eyes, started 
from the bush. Boone spoke to her, and found that her name 
was Rebecca Bryan. This was the lady whom he subsequently 
married ; but the story (which is very delightful) is only a story, 
and has, we are sorry to say, no foundation in exact truth. 

When a man gets married he wants to stay at home, and make 
himself comfortable in the society of his wife, if not for good, cer- 
tainly for a time ; so Boone adopted the calling of a farmer for 
several years, and only used his gun around the farm. Occasion- 
ally, however, he made an excursion with a party of hunters into 
the wilderness, where the abundance of game made it profitable 
to do so. These excursions afforded him the keenest enjoyment. 
Apart from the pleasure which every man must feel in the exer- 
cise of unusual skill, and which is especially keen in a sportsman, 
Boone possessed a genuine love of nature, and delighted in view- 
ing her in her primeval splendor. Such natures require space ; 
they can not breathe in crowded settlements ; the approach of a 
mixed population with its class distinctions is horrible to them. 

In 1767, John Finley, a famous backwoods hunter, made an 
excursion along the waters of the Kentucky River, and returned 
with glowing accounts of what he had seen. These were suffi- 
cient for Boone, who already began to feel that he was crowded 
in North Carolina. He determined to explore the new country, 
and settle there if it equaled the vivid picture he had drawn in his 
mind. A party of six was formed, but much time elapsed before 
the hunters were ready to start, and it was not until June, 1769, 
that they reached the waters of the Red River, and encamped 
somewhere within the boundaries of the present Morgan County. 
In this vicinity the party hunted with much success until Decem- 
ber, and without encountering any Indians. Feeling more at ease 
from this circumstance, it was now proposed to divide the mem- 
bers of the party, so that they might cover a greater expanse of 
ground. Boone and a companion started in the direction of the 
main Kentucky River, and had nearly reached its banks, when 
they were suddenly set upon by a band of Indians, who rushed 
out of a cane-brake and made them prisoners. This was the pen- 
alty of the over-security they had permitted themselves to feel. 



DANIEL BOONE. 193 

The Indians robbed them of all they possessed, and detained them 
for seven days, but treated them with hospitality, evidently in- 
tending to receive them into their tribe ; but Boone and his com- 
panion were not eager for this distinction, and they availed them- 
selves of the first opportunity to make their escape. One night, 
when the Indians were quietly slumbering round their fires, Boone 
signaled to Stewart, his companion, that the moment had arrived. 
They crept stealthily into the darkness of the forest, and never 
paused or rested until they had reached their old hunting-camp. 
Here they expected to find their companions, but, to their amaze- 
ment and distress, they were nowhere to be seen, and the spot 
furnished abundant indications of having been visited by the In- 
dians and plundered. Of the fate of this party nothing is known. 
It was never heard of more. 

Now that they knew they were in the country of enemies, they 
had to proceed with the greatest caution. One day, while they 
were looking around for game, they discerned the figures of two 
men coming toward them. Both parties were immediately on 
their guard. Boone shouted, " Hilloa, strangers, who are you?" 
" White men and friends," was the reply. The next moment, to 
his extreme surprise and joy, he recognized the well-known feat- 
ures of his brother and another adventurer from North Carolina. 
They were on an exploring expedition, and had been following 
Boone with news from his family and a supply of powder and lead. 
The accession to the strength of the little party was particularly 
acceptable at the present moment, but, unhappily, it did not afford 
them any additional protection. Boone and Stewart, on a second 
excursion from the camp, were again set upon by a party of In- 
dians. Boone succeeded in effecting his escape, but Stewart was 
shot in the attempt, and scalped. Shortly afterward, the hunter 
whom Boone's brother had brought with him from North Carolina 
was missing. Nothing was heard of his fate for some time. At 
length a decayed skeleton and some fragments of clothing were 
discovered near a swamp. They were supposed to be his remains, 
but the cause of his death has ever remained a mystery. The two 
brothers were now alone in the forest, and lived and hunted in 
safety through the winter. They found abundance of game, and 
consequently plenty of occupation for their guns and their knives. 
When the warm breezes of spring unlocked the earth, Daniel de- 
termined on sending his brother, Squire Boone, to North Carolina 

I 



194 SELF-MADE MEN. 

for supplies, while he remained to protect the peltry and increase 
the stock. The journey was over five hundred miles, and it was 
not until the end of July that Squire returned, bringing with him 
good news from home, a couple of horses, and an ample supply of 
all necessaries. In the mean time, Daniel had made an exploring 
tour to the southwest, and he ascertained on his return that the 
Indians had paid him a visit. The brothers were convinced that 
if they remained they would assuredly fall into the hands of some 
straggling party of hunters, and perhaps perish beneath their bru- 
tal scalping-knives. To avert such an unpleasant fate, they made 
up their minds to vacate their present quarters, and seek a more 
secure spot on the Cumberland River. They placed all their 
possessions upon the backs of horses, and took their departure ; 
but, after traversing most of the Cumberland region (which they 
found hilly and indifferently stocked with game), they returned in 
a northeastern direction to the Kentucky River, and selected a site 
where they determined to establish a settlement. From the first 
it had been Daniel's intention to bring on his wife and family so 
soon as he felt justified in doing so. The moment had now arrived. 
After an absence of two years, he turned homeward, heavily lad- 
en with peltry, and accompanied by his brother. During that 
time he had neither tasted bread nor salt, and had seen no hu- 
man faces except those of his brother and companions, and of the 
Indians who made him prisoner. He arrived in safety at Yad- 
kin, and made preparations for speedy return to the forest ; but, 
in spite of all his exertions, two years elapsed before he was in a 
position to make a start. " On the 25th of September, 1773," 
says Mr. Peck, in his biography of Daniel Boone, " the two broth- 
ers bade adieu to their friends and neighbors on the Yadkin, and 
entered on the perilous task of traversing the wilderness to the 
banks of the Kentucky. A drove of pack-horses carried their 
bedding, clothing, provisions, and other necessaries ; a number of 
milch cows, with some young cattle and swine, were intended to 
constitute the herd of the western wilderness. At Powell's Val- 
ley, through which their route lay, they were joined by forty fam- 
ilies and forty men, all well armed. This accession of strength 
gave them courage, and the party advanced full of hope and con- 
fident of success. At night they encamped, as is still the custom 
of emigrating parties throughout the vast West. The camping- 
place is near some spring or water-course ; temporary shelters are 



DANIEL BOONE. 195 

made by placing poles in a sloping position, with one end resting 
on the ground, the other elevated on forks. On these, tent-cloth, 
prepared for the purpose, or, as in the case of these pioneers, arti- 
cles of bed-covering, are stretched. The fire is kindled in front 
against a fallen tree or log, toward which the feet are placed while 
sleeping. If the ground is wet, twigs or small branches, with 
leaves and dry grass, are laid under the beds. Each family re- 
poses under a separate cover, and the clothing worn by day is sel- 
dom removed at night." 

In this way the train proceeded without an incident until the 
Gth of October. The pioneers were then approaching the roman- 
tic mountain opening called the Cumberland Gap. Seven young- 
men who had charge of the cattle were lagging behind some six 
or seven miles, when suddenly they were attacked by the Indians ; 
six of the number were instantly killed, and the seventh, who was 
wounded, barely succeeded in making good his escape. In the 
noise and confusion of the struggle the cattle dispersed in the 
forest. Such a calamity at such a moment was irreparable. It 
struck dismay into the hearts of the pioneers, and, in spite of 
Boone's entreaties, they refused to go on for the present. The 
expedition was consequently abandoned, and the party retired 
to the settlements of Clinch River, Virginia, to recruit. The 
following summer, Boone received a message from Governor 
Dunmore, requesting him to proceed to the wilderness of Ken- 
tucky in search of some surveyors who were believed to be either 
lost or in danger of being so. In company with another hunter, 
he undertook this task, and accomplished it successfully. He was 
absent sixty-two days, and traveled eight hundred miles on foot. 

In the spring of the year 1775, Boone was employed by a com- 
pany of land speculators (who imagined they had secured a valid 
title to the land in Kentucky by virtue of a deed of purchase from 
the Cherokees) to survey and lay out roads in Kentucky. He 
was placed at the head of a body of well-armed men, and pro- 
ceeded to his work with great willingness. The party had arrived 
within fifteen miles of Boonesborough, when they were fired on 
by Indians, and suffered a loss of two killed and two wounded. 
Three days later they were again attacked, and had two killed 
and three wounded. Boone was not the sort of man to be deterred 
by a calamity even of this severe kind. He pressed forward, and 
on a favorable site erected a fort (called Boonesborough), suffi- 



19G SELF-MADE MEN. 

ciently strong and large to afford protection against any further 
attack. He was so well satisfied with its security, that, shortly 
afterward, he returned to Clinch River for his wife and family. 
They arrived safely, his "wife and daughters being the first white 
women that ever stood on the banks of the Kentucky River." A 
number of families followed their example, and the little place 
soon became cheerful and populated. The Indians did not venture 
to attack the settlers so long as they remained within sight of the 
fort, but it was very well known that they hovered about the out- 
skirts, ready for a descent on any unhappy wight who might ex- 
pose himself unguardedly to their vengeance. The men were sus- 
picious and careful, and never went out without their rifles. In 
spite of these precautions, a most thrilling and tragic incident oc- 
curred. On the 14th of July, 1776, three young girls belonging 
to the fort (one of them was Boone's daughter) heedlessly crossed 
the river in a canoe late in the afternoon. When they got to the 
other side they commenced playing and splashing with the paddles, 
as gay young girls, unconscious of danger, might naturally do, un- 
til the canoe, floating with the current, drifted close to the shore, 
which at this part was thickly covered with trees and shrubs. 
Concealed in this natural ambuscade lay three savage Indians. 
They had been watching every motion of the girls, and were pre- 
pared now to seize their opportunity. One of the coppery rascals 
dropped stealthily into the stream, caught hold of the rope that 
hung from the bow of the canoe, and drew it out of view of the fort. 
The girls, aroused to a sense of their danger, screamed as loud 
as they could, and were heard at the fort ; but, before assistance 
could come, their captors hurried them on shore and bore them to 
the interior. "Next morning by daylight," says Colonel Floyd, 
who was one of the actors in what he describes, " we were on the 
track, but found they had totally prevented our following them by 
walking some distance apart through the thickest canes they could 
find. "We observed their course, and on which side they had left 
their sign, and traveled upward of thirty miles. We then imagined 
that they would be less cautious in traveling, and made a turn in 
order to cross their trace, and had gone but a few miles before we 
found their tracks in a buffalo path ; pursued and overtook them 
on going about ten miles, just as they were kindling a fire to cook. 
Our study had been more to get the prisoners, without giving the 
Indians time to murder them, after they discovered us, than to kill 
them. 






DANIEL BOONE. 197 

" We discovered each other nearly at the same time. Four of 
us fired, and all rushed on them, which prevented them from car- 
rying away any thing except one shot-gun without ammunition. 
Mr. Boone and myself had a pretty fair shoot just as they began 
to move off. I am well convinced I shot one through, and the 
one he shot dropped his gun ; mine had none. The place was 
very thick with canes, and being so much elated on recovering 
the three little broken-hearted girls prevented our making far- 
ther search. We sent them off without their moccasins, and not 
one of them with so much as a knife or a tomahawk." The sim- 
plicity of this narrative exceeds its clearness, but, with all its in- 
volutions, is it not graphic, and does it not convey an excellent 
idea of the rough indifference to danger so characteristic of true 
pioneer life ? 

After this it was necessary to be doubly watchful, for the In- 
dians became more aggressive, and apprehensions were felt that a 
general attack would be made on the fort and stations. These 
fears appeared to be so well founded, that it was only the oldest 
and bravest of the pioneers who could withstand their influence. 
The land speculators and other adventurers, to the number of 
nearly three hundred, left the country, and new-comers, although 
prepared for danger, were with difficulty prevailed upon to re- 
main. The year 1777 passed in this gloomy way, marked only 
by frequent attacks on the various stations by the Indians. Two 
attempts were made on the fort, but each time the besiegers 
were beaten off. The brave little garrison lost two men killed 
and five wounded. With all means of transit cut off by their 
wary foes, great privations were necessarily suffered by the little 
band. The immediate necessaries of life they could of course 
procure, but some articles which were essential to the preserva- 
tion of health they were without. This was especially the case 
with regard to salt. Boone, while in the wilderness, could do 
without this article of luxury, but the families in the fort sorely 
felt its need, and all kinds of efforts were made to obtain a sup- 
ply. At length it was determined to fit out an expedition, con- 
sisting of thirty men, with Boone at its head, to effect this desira- 
ble object. It was necessary to proceed to the Lower Blue Licks, 
on Licking River, and there manufacture the article, which, in due 
course, was to be forwarded by pack-horses to the fort. The en- 
terprise, which seemed at first to promise success, cost Boone and 



198 SELF-MADE MEN. 

his companions their liberty. One day, while hunting a short 
distance from his comrades, he was surprised by a party of In- 
dians, one hundred and two in number. He attempted to escape, 
but their swiftest runners were put on his trail, and he soon aban- 
doned all idea of doing so. The sagacity and presence of mind 
of the old hunter had now to be exercised. He parleyed with 
the Indians, professed all sorts of friendship for them, succeeded 
in gaining their confidence, and finally made honorable terms for 
the surrender of his men, who became prisoners of war. Boone 
has been blamed for not offering resistance, but a moment's reflec- 
tion will demonstrate that the course he pursued was the wisest 
and safest. Had he offered resistance, his little band would have 
been overpowered, and the next point of attack would have been 
the fort, which, from the absence of the garrison, would have been 
entirely at the mercy of the savages. To avert a certain massa- 
cre, he surrendered his men, after having made excellent condi- 
tions for the safety of their lives. " The generous usage the In- 
dians had promised before, in my capitulation," says Boone, " was 
afterward fully complied with, and we proceeded with them as 
prisoners to Old Chilicothe, the principal Indian town on Little 
Miami, where we arrived, after an uncomfortable journey in very 
severe weather, on the 18th of February, and received as good 
treatment as prisoners could expect from savages. On the 10th 
day of March following, I and ten of my men were conducted by 
forty Indians to Detroit, where we arrived on the 30th day, and 
were treated by Governor Hamilton, the British commander at 
that post, with great humanity." The governor endeavored to 
obtain Boone's liberation by purchase, but his captors were not 
willing to part with him. He had so ingratiated himself in their 
good graces that they were determined to have him for a chief, 
and insisted on carrying him back to their town for the purpose 
of adoption. He bade farewell to his friends in Detroit, and, un- 
der the friendly escort of his pertinacious admirers, returned to 
Chilicothe, where he was adopted by an illustrious individual of 
the name of Blackfish, to supply the place of a deceased son and 
warrior. He was treated with great kindness, and in a short 
time became universally popular. He was careful to avoid all 
cause for suspicion, and to appear constantly happy, although, 
of course, he was forever dreaming of his wife and family, and 
praying for the happy day that should enable him to escape to 



DANIEL BOONE. 199 

tliem. Early in the following June he was taken to the Salt 
Springs, on the Scioto, to assist in making salt. On his return, 
he was alarmed to see a fearful array of four hundred and fifty 
warriors, and still more so when he discovered that they were 
bound on an expedition against Boonesborough. He determined 
to effect his escape, and, on the following morning, the 16th of 
June, 1778, he arose and went forth as usual without exciting 
suspicion. He never returned, and Blackfish had to adopt an- 
other son. Boone succeeded in reaching the fort in safety. His 
sudden appearance greatly astonished the people there, for they 
had given him up, and his wife, with some of the children, had 
actually departed for North Carolina. Not a moment was to be 
lost in making the necessary preparations for the defense of the 
settlement. The fort, which had fallen into a very rickety condi- 
tion, was put in thorough repair, and the garrison mustered and 
drilled so as to be in perfect readiness. The Indians, however, 
changed their minds. Alarmed, probably, at the escape of Boone, 
they postponed their expedition for three weeks, but, in the mean 
time, they made some additions to their strength in the shape of 
French and Canadian officers. On the 7th of September, the In- 
dian army, numbering four hundred and forty-four, with Captain 
Duquesne and eleven other Canadians, appeared before Boones- 
borough. The Indians were commanded by Boone's would-be 
father-in-law, Mr. Blackfish, and the Canadians by Captain Du- 
quesne. When this alarming force had assembled before the un- 
happy little fort, a summons was issued to " surrender, in the 
name of his Britannic majesty." The garrison consisted of be- 
tween sixty and seventy men, and a large number of women and 
children. If they had surrendered it would have been nothing 
remarkable, but they did not even think of doing such a thing. 
Boone expected re-enforcements from Holston, and it became nec- 
essary, therefore, to procure as much delay as possible. For this 
purpose, he desired that he might have two days to consider the 
proposition of his Britannic majesty. Strange as it may appear, 
this proposition was acceded to. About five minutes were suffi- 
cient for the garrison to arrive at a determination, and this was that 
they would fight it out to the last. All the cows and horses were 
collected within the fort, and every vessel filled with water from 
the spring, the latter task being performed by the ladies. When 
the hour arrived for giving an answer to bold Captain Duquesne, 



200 " SELF-MADE MEN. 

it was done in this wise by Boone : " We laugh at your formida- 
ble preparations, but thank you for giving notice and time to pre- 
pare for defense." Captain Duquesne was not incensed at this 
reply, but still insisted on a capitulation. " He declared his or- 
ders from Colonel Hamilton were to take the garrison captives, 
to treat them as prisoners of war, and not to injure, much less to 
murder them ; and that they had horses to take the women and 
children, and all others who could not bear the fatigue of travel- 
ing on foot. He then proposed that, if the garrison would de- 
pute nine persons to come out of the fort and hold a treaty, the 
terms should be liberal. It is impossible at this time, after the 
demise of every person concerned in the affair, to account for the 
singular course of Captain Duquesne and his Indian allies."* 

Although Duquesne's affectionate course savored of treachery, 
Boone thought it desirable to accede to his proposition, as it would 
at least secure a little more delay. Nine commissioners were 
selected for the purpose of discussing the treaty, Boone being one 
of the number. A plot of ground in front of the fort was selected 
for the conference, all parties to go unarmed. Before leaving for 
this hazardous interview, Boone took the precaution to place a 
number of experienced riflemen in advantageous positions, so that, 
if the commissioners retreated hastily, they might be protected. 
The parties met, and the treaty proposed was of the most liberal 
kind. It simply demanded that the residents and garrison of the 
fort should acknowledge the British authorities, and take the oath 
of allegiance to the king ; in return for which they were to remain 
unmolested. After these points had been settled, the Indians 
proposed that, as a commemoration of the joyous occasion, they 
should revive an ancient custom of their tribe, which consisted in 
two Indians shaking hands with one white man at the same mo- 
ment. Boone and his companions knew exactly what this meant, 
but they did not betray any uneasiness. Eighteen stalwart, mus- 
cular Indians now advanced, and, in the way prescribed by the 
very ancient custom before mentioned, endeavored to drag off the 
white men. But the iron frames of the pioneers were braced for a 
struggle. Being without weapons, they appealed to their Anglo- 
Saxon knowledge of fisticuffs, and in a very little while had tum- 
bled the red villains in the dust. In the excitement which followed 
they made good their retreat to the fort, and the riflemen imme- 
* Peck's Life of Daniel Boone. 



DANIEL BOONE. 201 

diately opened a murderous fire to keep off the pursuers. Hos- 
tilities now commenced on both sides. The Indians kept up a 
brisk fire at the fort, but, owing to its favorable situation, could 
not effect much mischief. The garrison, on the contrary, never 
fired a charge without an especial object. A regular siege, con- 
ducted in the usual Indian style, was kept up for nine days, but 
with no result. The Kentuckians never flinched for a moment. 
Even the women assisted in the defense, for they loaded the rifles, 
moulded bullets, and supplied refreshments. On one occasion the 
fort was fired by the enemy, but a heroic young man extinguished 
the flames, in spite of a shower of bullets which greeted his appear- 
ance with the buckets on the roof. Foiled in this, the Indians, 
under the direction of the Canadians, commenced digging a mine ; 
but Boone was equal to this emergency. He began a counter- 
mine, and threw all the dirt into their works, so that they had the 
pleasure of shoveling it away before they could make the slightest 
progress. On the 20th of September they raised the siege and 
took their departure, after having suffered a loss of thirty-seven 
killed and many more wounded. The loss on the pioneer side 
was two killed and four wounded : it would not have been so 
great but for the desertion of a vagabond negro who went over 
to the enemy, carrying with him an excellent rifle. During the 
siege, this rascal placed himself in a tree on the other side of the 
river, and was able, owing to the excellence of his weapon, to fire 
into the fort. He had killed one and wounded another, when 
Boone caught a glimpse of his woolly head. It was sufficient ; 
the next moment Sambo rolled from the tree. After the retreat 
his body was found, and in the centre of his forehead an explana- 
tory hole told the stoiy of his death. The old hunter brought him 
down at a distance of one hundred and seventy-five yards. 

During the autumn of this year Boone rejoined his wife and 
family in North Carolina. " The history of my going home and 
returning with my family forms a series of difficulties, an account 
of which would swell a volume." The principal difficulty to which 
he here refers was the loss of all his property by robbery. With 
the view to purchase land in Kentucky, he converted every thing 
he possessed into cash, amounting in all to about twenty thousand 
dollars paper money. With this he started for Richmond, where 
the Court of Commissioners was held (1779), and on the road was 
robbed of the whole. The event was additionally distressing to 

I 2 



202 SELF-MADE MEN. 

him from the fact that, in addition to his own money, he had va- 
rious sums belonging to other people, who had intrusted it to him 
for the same purpose. 

After this misfortune, Boone returned to Boonesborough in 
1780. In October of this year, he and his brother had occasion 
to visit the Blue Licks, and on their return were fired upon by 
Indians. His brother fell a victim, and was scalped. Boone, 
with the greatest difficulty, escaped. Outrages of this kind were 
frequent, and it became daily more apparent that a strong blow 
had to be struck ere the security of the settlers could in the least 
degree be insured. The Legislature of Virginia took the matter 
in hand soon after; divided Kentucky into three counties, and 
effected a civil and military organization. John Todd was made 
colonel, and Daniel Boone lieutenant colonel of Lincoln County. 
Each county was expected to raise a regiment, and the whole force 
of the three counties was placed under the command of Brigadier 
General Clark. 

It was not long before this force was brought into active service. 
The attack on Bryant's Station called all the settlers to arms. A 
large number of Indians had made an unsuccessful attack on that 
point, and it was now determined to follow up the advantage by 
pursuing the Indian army, and, if possible, destroying it. Colonel 
Boone, with his son Israel and his brother Samuel, headed a strong 
party from Boonesborough, and Colonel Todd commanded the 
militia from Lexington. A council of war was held, and Boone 
opposed the scheme of pursuit, but was overruled. Consequent- 
ly, the forces started, and were soon on the trail ; but no Indians 
were to be seen until they reached the Lower Blue Licks. A few 
were then discovered marching over a ridge on the opposite side. 
Before crossing the river, Colonel Todd ordered a halt, and an- 
other conference was held, at which Boone's views were especially 
solicited. They were now at the spot where, some years before, 
Boone and his companions had been surprised while making salt, 
and he was thoroughly familiar with every crevice and rock in 
the neighborhood. He gave it as his opinion that an ambuscade 
was prepared for them, and, if they crossed the ridge where they 
saw the Indians, they would inevitably fall into it and be de- 
stroyed. If they were determined to proceed, he gave them some 
sound advice about the division of the troops, so that the enemy 
might be attacked at two points simultaneously. 



DANIEL BOONE. 203 

Boone's calmness (the result of a remarkable knowledge of the 
Indian character) appears to have been misconstrued into timidity. 
In the midst of his deliberations, an officer named Major M'Gary 
raised the war-whoop, and, addressing the troops, said, " Those 
who are not cowards, follow me ; I will show you where the In- 
dians are." In the excitement of the moment, two thirds of the 
men followed this dashing but indiscreet leader, and the remain- 
der soon after crossed the river. Another halt was ordered, and 
scouts were sent out to examine the ravine. Not an Indian was 
to be seen. Boone still persisted that they were in ambush, but 
the order was given to march, and the troops went on to within 
forty yards of the ravine. Here they received the first intimation 
of the presence of an enemy. A withering volley of musketry 
poured down upon them from every side ; Colonel Trigg and a 
number of the Harrodsburg troops fell like leaves before the au- 
tumn wind. Major Harlan then advanced with his company, and 
was swept away in like manner. Only three of the entire force 
remained to tell the story. Colonel Todd shared the unhappy fate 
of his comrades. The Indians now rushed upon the remaining 
military with their tomahawks, and a precipitate and disorderly 
retreat commenced. Those who reached the river endeavored to 
cross, but were still pursued by the Indians. The slaughter was 
terrible. The Kentuckians, escaping over a bleak rock, were 
most palpable marks, and in the river, as they strove to make the 
opposite shore, they were scarcely to be missed by an Indian eye. 
The nearest place to retreat to was Bryan's Station, thirty-six 
miles distant, and for this they made with all possible expedition. 
Although the Indians pursued them for twenty miles, they did but 
little execution after the ford had been crossed. The men were 
no longer exposed to their unerring aim. Boone had command 
of the left, and maintained his ground until the panic became 
general. All he could then effect was to preserve as many lives 
as possible by indicating the safest means of retreat. He knew 
every inch of ground, and, bearing his son (who was mortally 
wounded) across his breast, he made for a part of the river where 
he knew he could cross easily. He struck into the current, but 
before he could reach the opposite bank his son had expired. 
Xo pen can describe the emotions of the wretched parent as he 
lay panting on the shore with the dead and dripping body of his 
child before him, and a pack of fierce savages swimming toward 



204 SELF-MADE MEN. 

him for his life. They were so quick that he had to leave the 
body to their mercies in order to effect his own escape. Ex- 
hausted with fatigue, and alone, he made his way through the 
wilderness to Bryan's Station. Here he discovered that Colonel 
Logan, with a re-enforcement of four hundred and fifty men, had 
arrived, and he became bitterly conscious of the unnecessary horrors 
that had attended the rash daring of his companions. Had they 
listened to his advice, and waited for this re-enforcement, they 
would now have had a victory to triumph over instead of a defeat 
to lament. At a late hour at night, Colonel Logan and his troops, 
accompanied by Boone, started once more for the battle-field. The 
enemy had fled, but a terrible scene presented itself. "Dead 
and mutilated bodies were strewn through the scattering timber, 
submerged in the river, and spread over the rocky ridge. Im- 
mense flocks of -vultures were perched in the trees, hovering in 
the air, or moving over the field among the slain, gorged with the 
horrid repast. The savages had mangled and scalped many ; the 
wolves had torn others ; and the oppressive heat of August had 
so disfigured their remains that the persons of but few could be 
distinguished by their friends." They were interred with as much 
haste as possible, for Boone was still apprehensive that the Indians 
might not be quite off. 

The intelligence of this defeat spread rapidly through the coun- 
try, and produced the greatest consternation and alarm. Con- 
vinced of the necessity for an immediate blow, General George 
R. Clark made arrangements for a formidable expedition into the 
Indian country. In a short time a thousand mounted riflemen 
— all volunteers — were in the saddle, and eager to avenge the 
slaughter of their neighbors. There were hundreds of others 
who were too old, or otherwise unable to go, who sent all sorts 
of supplies, to testify how cordially they sympathized with the 
cause. Bryan's Station was selected as the place of rendezvous 
for the upper country, and the Falls of the Ohio for the lower. 
The troops marched with immense celerity and secrecy. As an 
evidence of the latter, it may be mentioned that, although they 
were passing through a country densely stocked with game, they 
suffered from hunger rather than pull a trigger to give the alarm. 
So rapid were they in their movements that they actually overtook 
a portion of the Indian army on its way home from the Kentucky 
scene of blood. A couple of Indians gave the alarm, however, 



DANIEL BOONE. 205 

and empty cabins and deserted villages were all the volunteers 
could find. " The savages fled in the utmost disorder," writes 
Boone, who was simply a volunteer on this occasion, and held no 
kind of commission, " evacuated their towns, and reluctantly left 
their territory to our mercy." Of the latter they received but 
little ; Old Chilicothe and four other towns were razed to the 
ground, the Indian crops ruined, and the country rendered deso- 
late. But no enemy could be found. " In this expedition we took 
seven prisoners and five scalps, with the loss of only four men, 
two of whom were accidentally killed by our own army." The 
blow was decisive, however. It taught the Indians that to defeat 
the whites in an ambuscade was not to gain a victory, but rather 
to insure a speedy and terrible revenge. No more formidable in- 
vasions of Kentucky occurred after this demonstration, although 
attacks on isolated individuals were common enough. It was the 
last, too, in which Boone was engaged for the defense of Kentucky. 
A period of peace now smiled on the harassed settlers, and 
they were at liberty once more to return to their farms and enjoy 
the comforts of home. Colonel Boone, from the proceeds of his 
military pay, purchased several locations of land, on one of which 
he constructed a comfortable log house and cleared a farm. For 
several years he devoted himself to this peaceful occupation, and, 
by industry and thrift, secured all the necessaries and many of the 
luxuries of frontier life. One day, while he was looking after a 
small crop of tobacco which he had raised for the accommodation 
of his friends, four Indians, with guns in their hands, surprised 
him. He was standing on the top of a little building which had 
been erected for the purpose of drying the tobacco, when he heard 
the foremost Indian shout out, "Now, Boone, we got you. You 
no get away more. We carry you you off to Chilicothe this time. 
You no cheat us any more." Boone looked down, and saw their 
ugly-looking guns and still more ugly-looking faces without losing 
a particle of his presence of mind. He recognized four of the men 
who had made him prisoner at the Blue Licks in 1778, and to 
whose tribe he was inducted by the late lamented Mr. Blackfish. 
He greeted them as friends, and expressed himself delighted at the 
interview. They wero impatient at his cool politeness, and de- 
sired him to come down. He replied that he would do so with 
the utmost dispatch, but begged that they would give him a few 
moments to remove his tobacco, so that it might not be spoiled. 



206 SELF-MADE MEN. 

To divert their attention, he entered into minute inquiries con- 
cerning the health of his former Indian comrades, and in this 
way gained sufficient time to gather up an armful of dry tobacco. 
When he had done this, he dropped it carefully in their faces, and 
followed up the playfulness by leaping bodily on them. The ras- 
cals began to sneeze and choke with the dust, and in their confu- 
sion Boone managed to escape to his cabin. After this incident 
he appears to have led a tranquil life, farming with great industry, 
and sporting with great enthusiasm at the proper times. 

In 1792, Kentucky came into the Federal Union as a sovereign 
state. Its population was rapidly on the increase, and much 
eagerness was displayed to obtain lands by immigrants. Law- 
suits were the inevitable consequence. Titles were scrutinized 
with the greatest severity, and the slightest tiefect led to speedy 
ejectment. Unfortunately, many of the titles granted by the Vir- 
ginia commissioners were entirely worthless, and this, we are sor- 
ry to add, was found to be the case with regard to the land held 
by Boone. The home he had defended so bravely against the 
savages fell beneath the more subtle warfare of the lawyer. He 
was ejected. In his old age he found himself without an acre of 
ground that he could call his own, and this in a country he had 
explored and populated. A harder case can not be imagined. 
Deeply grieved, he made up his mind to leave the state, and seek 
peace and plenty elsewhere. With this intention, he removed to 
the Kenhawa, in Virginia, and settled on that river, not far from 
Point Pleasant. During his short residence here he met with 
some hunters who were just returned from Upper Louisiana, and 
were full of tales of the vast game products of the prairies. The old 
hunter fired at their narratives, and determined to emigrate thith- 
er without any farther delay. It is said that he made particular 
inquiries concerning the lawyers of the Far West before he came 
to this determination. In 1795 he took his departure, and pro- 
ceeded to the district of St. Charles, about forty-five miles west 
of St. Louis, where he settled, having received assurances from the 
Spanish lieutenant governor that ample portions of land should 
be given to him and his family. In 1800, the lieutenant govern- 
or, as a mark of distinction and friendship, appointed Boone com- 
mandant of the Femme Osage District, in which capacity he acted 
until the transfer of the government to the United States. He 
appears to have been very much delighte 1 with the simple habits 



DANIEL BOONE. 207 

of the people of his new home. Prior to the transfer we have 
mentioned, a grant of land was made to Boone, in return for his 
official services, but, owing to some informality, the grant was 
once more repudiated, and Boone left landless. 

In 1812, by the advice of his friends, he petitioned Congress to 
obtain a confirmation of his claim, and, at the same time, sent a 
memorial to the General Assembly of Kentucky, begging them to 
use their influence in the matter. " This memorial," says Mr. 
Peck, " contained a sketch of his labors in the wilderness, and 
' of his claims to the remembrance of his country in general.' He 
spoke of ' his struggles in the fatal fields which were dyed with 
the blood of the early settlers, among whom were his two eldest 
sons, and others of his dearest connections. The history of the 
settlement of the "Western country,' he said, 'was his history.' 
He alluded to the love of discovery and adventure which had in- 
duced him to expatriate himself, ' under the assurance of the gov- 
ernor of St. Louis that ample portions of land should be given to 
him and to his family.' He mentioned the allotment of land, his 
failure to consummate the title, and his unsuccessful application 
to the commissioners of the United States. Of the vast extent 
of country which he had discovered and explored, ' he was una- 
ble to call a single acre his own,' and ' he had laid his case be- 
fore Congress. Your memorialist,' he added, 'can not but feel, 
so long as feeling remains, that he has a just claim upon his coun- 
try for land to live on, and to transmit to his children after him. 
He can not help, on an occasion like this, to look toward Ken- 
tucky. From a small acorn she has become a mighty oak, fur- 
nishing shelter to upward of four hundred thousand souls. Very 
different is her appearance now from the time when your memo- 
rialist, with his little band, began to fell the forest, and construct 
the rude fortifications at Boonesborough.' " The memorial of the 
worthy old pioneer was received favorably by the Legislature, 
who reported in both houses without a division. The applica- 
tion to Congress was equally successful, and one thousand arpents 
of land (more than eight hundred acres) were confirmed to him 
in the Femme Osage District, as originally granted to him by the 
Spanish government. 

In March, 1813, Mrs. Boone, the partner and sharer of all his 
joys and dangers, died at the advanced age of seventy-six. Dan- 
iel was still a hale, hearty old man when this occurred, but he 



208 SELF-MADE MEN. 

viewed with perfect tranquillity the approaching close of his own 
earthly career. A singular fact is related of him. Soon after 
his wife's demise, he gave directions to a cabinet-maker to make 
a coffin of black walnut for himself. This was done, and it re- 
mained in his possession for some time ; but, fancying that it was 
not a good fit, he gave it away, and procured another of cherry 
wood, which he kept under his bed to the day of his death. He 
was very anxious to be placed beside his wife, and entered into a 
written contract with a companion, who usually accompanied him 
on his hunting tours, that, should he die in the wilderness, he 
would convey the body to the cemetery in which she lay, and 
there inter him. His passion for hunting never deserted him, 
and to the day of his death he made excursions into the wilder- 
ness, seldom visiting the same place twice, or, when this was im- 
possible, amused himself with repairing rifles, making powder- 
horns, etc. In his domestic relations he was perfectly happy, 
surrounded with a large family of grandchildren, all of, whom 
doted on the hero, and vied with each other in tendering him 
every attention and kindness. On the 26th of September, 1820, 
he departed this life, in the eighty-sixth year of his age. His re- 
mains were disposed in the way he had desired, but, a quarter of 
a century later, they were removed, together with those of his 
wife, to the cemetery at Frankfort, where they were reinterred 
with appropriate ceremonies. 

" The life of Daniel Boone," says Governor Morehead, " is a 
forcible example of the powerful influence which a single absorb- 
ing passion exerts over the destiny of an individual. Born with 
no endowments of intellect to distinguish him from the crowd of 
ordinary men, and possessing no other acquirements than a very 
common education bestowed, he was enabled, nevertheless, to 
maintain a long and useful career, a conspicuous rank among the 
most distinguished of his contemporaries ; and the testimonials of 
the public gratitude and respect with w T hich he was honored after 
his death were such as were never awarded by an intelligent 
people to the undeserving." 



JOSEPH BRAMAH. 

One of the most talented and ingenious artisans that England 
has ever produced was the late Mr. Joseph Bramah, a man whose 
useful inventions are to be found in every nook and corner of the 
United Kingdom, and who has given to the world an almost un- 
limited power in the apparatus known as the hydrostatic press. 

Joseph Bramah was the son of a small farmer, and was born 
at Stainsborough, Yorkshire, on the 13th of April, 1749. He 
was the eldest of the family, and was intended to follow the avo- 
cation of an agriculturist ; but at a very early age he exhibited 
remarkable mechanical aptness, and seemed to fancy tools rather 
than implements. At the age of sixteen he met with an accident 
which incapacitated him for the laborious duties of the farm, and 
gave a direction to his future life. Being badly lamed, it became 
necessary that he shoidd choose a business in which walking was 
not essential. Most farmers' boys know something of carpen- 
tering, and Bramah, who delighted in it, could handle tools with 
decided skill. It was determined, therefore, that this should be 
his future business. He was apprenticed to a carpenter and 
joiner, and, at the expiration of his time, proceeded to London, 
where he worked journeyman for some years. By the exercise 
of industry and prudence, he was soon in a position to start in 
business on his own account. "With more leisure and extended 
means, he was now able to indulge his mechanical inclinations, 
and soon was widely known as a skillful and ingenious workman, 
and a mechanic of fine inventive powers. A few years later he 
adopted the profession of engineer or machinist, having, in the 
mean time, invented some important improvements in water- 
closets, which article he manufactured. But what gave him 
most reputation was an ingenious lock, still universally used in 
England, and known by his name. The construction of this lock 
is remarkably ingenious. Its security depends on the nice adjust- 
ment of a number of levers or sliders, which preserve, when at 
rest, a uniform situation. The key presses down these levers to 
a certain extent, and no more ; and so exact is its operations, that 
the lock was considered impregnable until Mr. Hobbs, an Ameri- 
can mechanic of great talent, succeeded in picking it, after many 



210 SELF-MADE MEN. 

hours' labor, at the Crystal Palace. On another occasion, this 
lock was opened before a committee of the House of Commons 
by means of a common quill. The object of the experiment was 
to show the extreme delicacy of the works, the quill having been 
cut into the required shape from the true key. This lock obtained 
a patent in 1784. 

Among other inventions by Mr. Bramah were improvements in 
water-cocks, pumps, and fire-engines ; but the most important of 
all, and the one for which he will be always remembered, is the 
hydraulic press. The principle of this machine is thus described : 
A given pressure, as that given by a plug forced inward upon a 
square inch of the surface of a fluid confined in a vessel, is sud- 
denly communicated to every square inch of the vessel's surface, 
however large, and to every inch of the surface of any body im- 
mersed in it : thus, if we attempt to force a cork into a vessel full 
of water, the pressure will not merely be felt by the portion of the 
water directly in the range of the cork, but by all parts of the mass 
alike ; and the liability of the bottle to break, supposing it to be 
of uniform strength throughout, will be as great in one place as 
another ; and a bottle will break at the point wherever it is the 
weakest, however that point may be situated relatively to the 
place where the cork is applied ; and the effect will be the same, 
whether the stopper be inserted at the top, bottom, or side of the 
vessel. It is this power which operates with such astonishing 
effect in the hydrostatic press. The application of the hand at 
the handle with a force of only ten pounds produces an actual 
power of two thousand five hundred pounds, and so in proportion 
to the size, strength, and capacity of the machine. A man can 
easily exert ten times the force supposed, and thus command a 
power of twenty-five thousand pounds. These stupendous effects 
seem almost magical when it is remembered that they are pro- 
duced by two small pipes, each fitted with a piston and a little 
water, which for years needs no replenishing. This invaluable 
machine was patented in 1796. In the following year Bramah 
patented the beer-machine now so common in hotels, and in pri- 
vate houses where water is not easily obtained. By the aid of this 
elegant little contrivance, fluids may be drawn from remote places 
with the greatest ease. He was also the inventor of improvements 
in steam-engines, especially in boilers ; in machinery for producing 
smooth and accurate surfaces on wood or metal ; in paper-making 



JOSEPH BRAMAH. 211 

machinery ; in making pens by a mechanical process, by which 
several nibs resembling steel pens were cut out of one quill and 
fixed in a holder for use ; and in the construction of carriages. 
In 1806 he contrived an exceedingly ingenious mode of printing, 
which was shortly afterward applied to the consecutive numbering 
of bank-notes, and by the introduction of which, during the issue 
of one pound notes by the Bank of England, the labor of 100 clerks 
out of 120 was dispensed with. 

In 1812 Mr. Bramah patented an elaborate scheme for laying 
mains or large water-pipes through the principal streets of Lon- 
don, of sufficient strength to withstand great pressure applied by 
force-pumps. The object was to provide the means of extinguish- 
ing fires by throwing water without the aid of a fire-engine, and 
also to supply a lifting power applicable to the raising of great 
weights, by forcing water or air into an apparatus consisting of a 
series of tubes, sliding into one another like the tubes of a tele- 
scope, and capable of being projected when necessary. He de- 
clared that he was able to make a series of five hundred such 
tubes, each five feet long, capable of sliding within each other, 
and of being extended in a few seconds by the pressure of air to 
the length of 2500 feet. With this apparatus he proposed to 
raise wrecks, and regulate the descent of weights. The last pat- 
ent secured by Mr. Bramah was for a mode of preventing dry-rot 
in timber by covering it with a thin coat of Eoman cement. 

Mr. Bramah died on the 9th of December, 1814. He was su- 
perintending the uprooting of trees in Holt forest by his hydraulic 
press at the time, and contracted a severe cold, from which he 
never recovered. Mr. Bramah was a sincere Christian and an 
excellent man ; in his disposition he was cheerful, benevolent, 
and affectionate ; in his habits, staid, soberly, and tidy ; in his re- 
lations with his fellow-man, liberal and upright. He never forgot 
his humble origin, and always treated the mechanics who were 
employed in his workshops with kindness and consideration — so 
much so, indeed, that, during times of commercial stagnation, he 
would carry on his works, although without a market for the goods 
that were produced. Mr. Bramah was not an author, but two arti- 
cles from his pen were published, " A Dissertation on the Construc- 
tion of Locks," and a "Letter to the Right Honorable Sir James 
Eyre, Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, on the subject of 
the cause of Boulton & Watt versus Hornblower & Maberlev." 



JAMES HAKGKEAVES. 

The spinning-jenny, one of the most important items in the 
improved machinery now used for weaving, was the invention of 
James Hargreaves, a poor weaver of Stand Hill, near Blackburn, 
England. The machine is said to have received its name from a 
fair damsel, probably the sweetheart of the inventor. Its object 
is to spin the loose threads (called a roving or slubbin) into yarn. 
This operation was performed by hand up to Hargreaves' s time, 
and was slowly and imperfectly done. Being a weaver himself, 
he was aware of the importance of the machine he invented, but 
nevertheless he owed its invention to accident. It is said that he 
received the original idea from seeing a one-thread wheel overturn- 
ed on the floor (an accident that had occurred hundreds of times 
before, and passed unnoticed), and observing that the wheel and 
spindle continued to revolve. The spindle was thrown from a hor- 
irzontal into an upright position ; and the thought immediately 
struck him that, if a number of spindles were placed upright, and 
side by side, several threads might be spun at once. Acting on 
this suggestion, he constructed a frame, in which he placed eight 
rovings and eight spindles. The rovings, when extended to the 
spindles, passed between two horizontal bars of wood, forming a 
clasp, which opened and shut somewhat like a parallel ruler ; 
when pressed together, the clasp held the threads fast. A certain 
portion of roving being extended from the spindles to the wooden 
clasp, the latter was closed, and then drawn along the horizontal 
frame to a considerable distance from the spindles, thus length- 
ening the threads and reducing them to their proper thinness. 
The spinner's left hand performed this operation ; with his right 
he turned a wheel which caused the spindles to revolve rapidly, 
and thus the roving was spun into yarn. By returning the clasp 
to its first position, and letting down a presser wire, the yarn was 
wound upon the spindle. 

This machine was rudely constructed, but it was practicable, 
and Hargreaves put it into operation for the benefit of himself 
and family. He endeavored to keep it a secret, and spun weft 
merely for his own weaving ; but such an important piece of ma- 
chinery was not likely to remain unknown for a great length pf 



JAMES HARGREAVES. 213 

time. First his intimate friends became acquainted with its rapid 
operations, and then they spread the rumor among their fellow- 
workmen. An excitement was the consequence. The weavers 
began to complain, in the usual way, that the bread was being 
taken from their mouths, and that, if the machines came into use, 
multitudes would be thrown out of employment and reduced to a 
state of starvation. So virulent did these complaints become at 
length, that a mob broke into Hargreaves's house and destroyed 
his jenny — imagining, possibly, that it was not within the com- 
pass of human ingenuity to construct another. Not alone did he 
thus suffer in his property ; his person was exposed to the great- 
est danger, and he was compelled to flee to Nottingham (1768), 
where he hoped to be safe. Here he entered into partnership 
with Mr. Thomas James, a joiner, who raised sufficient capital to 
start a small mill, and to secure a patent for the invention (1770). 
The specification describes " a method of making a wheel or an 
engine of an entire new construction, and never before made use 
of, in order for spinning, drawing, and twisting of cotton, and to 
be managed by one person only ; and that the wheel or engine 
will spin, draw, and twist sixteen or more threads at one time, by 
a turn or motion of one hand and a draw of the other." The 
operations of the machine are thus described by Hargreaves: 
" One person with his or her right hand turns the wheel, and 
with the left hand takes hold of the clasps, and therewith draws 
out the cotton from the slubbin box; and being twisted by the 
turn of the wheel in the drawing out, then a piece of wood is 
lifted by the toe, which lets down a presser wire, so as to press 
the threads so drawn out and twisted, in order to wind or put the 
same regularly upon bobbins which are placed on the spindles." 

The advantages of the invention were soon recognized by the 
manufacturers, and some few machines of Hargreaves's manu- 
facture found a ready market in Blackburn ; but the opposition 
of the mob was still an alarming contingency. A desperate ef- 
fort was made in 1779 — when the machines had obtained a de- 
cided footing in that town — to put a stop to their operations. A 
series of disgraceful riots ensued ; a mob scoured the country for 
miles and miles round, and every manufacturer or weaver who 
was suspected of possessing one of the obnoxious machines had 
his premises searched, and, if evidence of the fact were found, de- 
stroyed. It was a war of extermination against machinery in 
general, and an immense deal of valuable property was destroyed. 



214 SELF-MADE MEN. 

It is said that the rioters spared the jennies that had only twenty- 
spindles (in the present day they are constructed with as many as 
one hundred and fifty), and only destroyed those with a greater 
number. The lamentable ignorance which provoked this futile 
hostility did not belong merely to the lower classes. There were 
thousands of others who viewed the introduction of machinery 
with alarm. The idea that an increased and consequently cheap- 
er supply would occasion an increased demand never entered their 
minds. All they thought about were the poor's rates. 

The effect of these riots on the thriving town of Blackburn was 
immediate. Many of the most wealthy and influential weavers 
removed to Manchester and other large places, where the munic- 
ipal authorities guaranteed them more security. It was many 
years before cotton-spinning was resumed in Blackburn with the 
old energy. 

At Nottingham, Mr. Hargreaves and his partner carried on the 
spinning business with moderate success. Their means were too 
limited to enable them to go into it in a manner calculated to se- 
cure a large return. From his patent Hargreaves received little 
or nothing. A number of Lancashire manufacturers used his 
jenny without paying any thing for the privilege. He gave no- 
tice of action against them, and they sent a delegation to Not- 
tingham to treat with him on the subject. Hargreaves demand- 
ed the sum of seven thousand pounds for the exclusive privileges 
they required. Subsequently he came down to four thousand 
pounds ; but the delegation refused to pay more than three thou- 
sand. Here the negotiation was broken off, very unfortunately 
for Hargreaves. The actions went on, but were relinquished be- 
fore the day of trial, Hargreaves's attorney having discovered that 
his client, compelled by necessity, before leaving Lancashire had 
sold some jennies to obtain clothing for his children, of whom he 
had six or seven. The lawyer despaired of getting a verdict in 
the face of such evidence. 

In April, 1778, Mr. Hargreaves departed this life, leaving a 
widow and a large family. Lie had succeeded in obtaining a com- 
fortable living from the fruits of his ingenuity and industry, but 
for his invention he got nothing beyond what it produced him as 
a labor-saving machine for his own use. His widow received four 
hundred pounds from Mr. James for her husband's share in the 
business. The profits must have been rather small to leave su:_*h 
a poor residue. 




ALEXANDER WILSOK 

Alexander Wilson, the world-known ornithologist, was a 
native of Scotland, born at Paisley on the 6th of July, 1766. 
His father, although in humble circumstances, was ambitious to 
see his son in the ministry, but inability to afford the necessary 
education for such a position rendered it impossible for this am- 
bition to be gratified. Beyond the plain rudiments of an English 
education, Wilson had no advantage over the other boys of his 
native town. Like them, he had to contribute to the income of 
the household, and at the age of thirteen was bound apprentice 
to his brother-in-law, Mr. William Duncan, to learn the business 
of a weaver. The employment was not acceptable to him, but 
he prosecuted it industriously for three years, amusing himself 
in the intervals of labor with the composition of verses. During 
the subsequent four years he worked as a journeyman weaver, 
and labored hard as a poet. He was particularly anxious to ex- 
cel in the latter character, and believed in his own mind that he 
was destined to excel the poet Burns, the lustre of whose genius 
was then suffusing the bleak mountains of Scotland. He pro- 



216 SELF-MADE MEN. 

duced many pieces, some of which appeared in the poet's corner 
of the papers. It is said they possessed much merit, but were 
mechanically defective. Beyond this it is unnecessary to refer 
to them except as indications of a refined mind struggling for ex- 
pression in spite of local difficulties. When he was in his twen- 
ty-first year, he joined his brother-in-law in a peddling campaign 
through the eastern districts of Scotland. Wilson was rejoiced 
at the opportunity of escaping from the wearisome captivity of 
the loom, and Went forth with his pack on his back in the gayest 
mood. He made it not only a tour of profit, but of pleasure ; he 
not only sought customers, but wooed the Muses. It seldom hap- 
pens that a man can do two things at the same time with even 
moderate success. Wilson soon discovered that poetry and ped- 
dling were incompatible, and being, like most poets, a little im- 
practical, he made up his mind to devote himself wholly to poet- 
ry. After a great deal of trouble, and an enormous amount of pa- 
tience, he succeeded in getting some small pieces published in book 
form, and the work went through two tiny editions with credit to 
the author. It is extremely difficult to live on any kind of cred- 
it, and poetic credit is perhaps the shortest in the world. Wil- 
son found it necessary to descend from his Pegasus and return 
to the ignoble loom, and shortly afterward became involved in a 
dispute between the manufacturers and the weavers. He sided, 
of course, with the latter, and revenged himself on the former by 
launching fearfully fierce pieces of poetic satire at their heads. 
In this way he contributed largely to the hot temper of the strug- 
gle, doing good service to his party, and carrying dismay into the 
ranks of the enemy. The most sagacious generals sometimes take 
a false step in the heat and excitement of the battle. This was 
the case with Wilson. There was one man in the town who had 
rendered himself singularly obnoxious to the weavers, and this 
man Wilson was determined to annihilate. He wrote a severe 
personal satire, in which the individual referred to was held up 
to the execration of the world as a spectacle of all that was bad, 
and depraved, and vicious, and profligate. The article was, of 
course, libelous, but as it was published anonymously, there was 
some difficulty in fastening it upon Wilson. One night, as he 
was going home, some spies in the employ of the libeled one seized 
him, and in the search which followed discovered some papers 
which settled the question of authorship. He was immediately 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 217 

prosecuted before the sheriff, sentenced to a short imprisonment, 
and compelled to burn the offensive effusion at the public cross 
of Paisley. After this he determined on leaving Scotland, and at 
the first opportunity sailed for America, where he arrived on the 
14th of July, 1794. He staid in Philadelphia for a short time, 
pursuing his old trade, and then removed to Sheppardstown, in 
Virginia, in the hope of getting rid of the loom forever. Finding 
that this was impossible, he returned once more to Pennsylvania. 
He was still subject to violent attacks of poetic phrensy, and per- 
petrated huge quantities of verse, which, although they did not 
yield any profit, procured him some consideration. Gratified with 
this, he abandoned weaving, and set up as village schoolmaster. 
In this arduous profession he continued for several years, and 
prospered. The defects of an imperfect education had always 
weighed upon his mind, and, now that he had the opportunity, he 
used every exertion to repair them. He was himself the most in- 
defatigable student of the establishment, and made considerable 
progress in many departments of human knowledge hitherto seal- 
ed to him. The emoluments from his school were not enormous- 
ly great, nor sufficient to deter him from accepting a situation as 
teacher from the trustees of Union School, in the township of 
Kingsessing, a short distance from Gray's Ferry, on the Schuyl- 
kill, and a few miles from the city of Philadelphia. 

The school-house was pleasantly situated near the botanical 
garden of William Bartram, and to this circumstance, more than 
any other, may be traced the after-career of Wilson. Bartram 
was a man unusually versed in natural history, and knew more 
about birds than any other man in the state. From the day of 
his arrival in America, Wilson had been struck with the beauty 
of the birds he saw, and now that he had an opportunity of con- 
versing with a man who knew so much of their habits, the sub- 
ject of ornithology became one of great interest to him. In a 
short time he devoted himself to it with an enthusiasm which 
denoted a natural aptitude for the study. From Bartram he ex- 
tracted all that the experience of that remarkable man had gath- 
ered, but without accepting the information as correctly philosoph- 
ical. When the one stated that such and such were the habits of 
such and such birds, the other placed the birds referred to under 
strict surveillance ; surprised them in their homes, interrupted 
them in their domestic felicities, robbed them of their suppers, and 

K 



218 SELF-MADE MEN. 

otherwise behaved in an inquisitorial manner. Thus, by making 
experience and observation his only guides, he became an orni- 
thologist. A few books in Mr. Bartram's library supplied him 
with the necessary technical tools ; for the rest, he trusted to him- 
self. Circumstances often converge to the point we hope to reach, 
and especially is this the case with men of genius. In the ordina- 
ry course of life they learn many things that are apparently use- 
less, when suddenly a new idea, a new passion, a new pursuit de- 
mands the very knowledge that has been thus casually acquired. 
So was it with Wilson. As a relaxation from severer duties, he 
studied drawing. At first he did not meet with extraordinary 
success, and was barely able to satisfy himself; but later, when 
he wanted to depict the form and plumage of a rare bird, he found 
his hand, although imperfectly tutored, skillful and true. 

Before embracing ornithology as a specialty, he made natural 
history, in all its beautiful comprehensiveness, a study. His little 
apartment was crowded with specimens of the familiar animals, 
birds, and reptiles of the neighborhood ; and all the boys of the 
country for miles round knew that they were certain of a few 
coppers if they could secure some scarce specimen of the animal 
creation. His own scholars, aware of his passion, rendered good 
service in the cause. Their eagerness in this respect is illustrated 
in the following beautiful little incident, described in the most 
beautiful way by Wilson himself. " One of my boys caught a 
mouse in school a few days ago, and directly marched up to me 
with his prisoner. I set about drawing it the same evening, 
and all the while the pantings of its little heart showed that it 
was in the most extreme agonies of fear. I had intended to kill 
it, in order to fix it in the claws of a stuffed owl ; but, happening 
to spill a few drops of water where it was tied, it lapped it up 
with such eagerness, and looked up in my face with such an ex- 
pression of supplicating terror as perfectly overcame me. I im- 
mediately untied it, and restored it to life and liberty. The ago- 
nies of a prisoner at the stake, while the fire and instruments of 
torture are preparing, could not be more severe than the suffer- 
ings of that poor mouse ; and, insignificant as the object was, I 
felt at that moment the sweet sensation that mercy leaves on the 
mind when she triumphs over cruelty." Is it not a pleasure to 
sympathize with a mind like this, so keenly sensitive, so poetically 
kind % 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 219 

In 1803 Wilson wrote to a friend in Scotland that he found the 
confinement of the school-room injurious to his health, and that, 
for the purpose of gaining a little healthful recreation, he was 
engaged in making a collection of American birds. This appears 
to be the first indication of his direct application to a science, 
his connection with which was destined to cover his name with 
world-wide fame. The real scheme which he had in view when 
he wrote this letter was to prepare an American Ornithology for 
the press. He mentioned it to Mr. Bartram, who, while he ap- 
proved the idea, doubted whether it could be profitably carried 
into execution. He also broached the matter to Mr. Lawson, an 
engraver, and eminently practical man, who recapitulated the ob- 
jections which had been previously urged. But Wilson was now 
excited, and not easily turned from a subject which had taken firm 
hold of his imagination. He determined that he would travel 
through the United States, obtain specimens of all the birds that 
he could discover, make drawings of them, and then trust to the 
future for some happy opportunity of placing his labors before the 
public. It is characteristic of the man that, when he came to this 
determination, he was in possession of the enormous fortune of 
seventy-Jive cents. Three years elapsed before he was able to take 
any farther step, but during this period he neglected no opportu- 
nity of improving and educating himself for the vocation he had 
selected. Among other things, he made an essay at etching, un- 
der the friendly tuition of Mr. Lawson, but, as might have been 
expected, the result was not astonishingly gratifying. Whenever 
he could snatch a few days from his scholastic duties, he made 
tours into the woods, and never came home empty-handed. On 
one occasion he went on foot to Niagara, the results of which trip 
he incorporated in a lengthy poem called the "Foresters," which, 
with many other of his effusions, appeared in a periodical of the 
day, and enjoyed a brief popularity. As a draughtsman, he made 
rapid progress. Mr. Jefferson, to whom he sent one of his draw- 
ings, wrote him an extremely friendly letter, and even begged his 
assistance in discovering a strange bird which he, Mr. Jefferson, 
had often heard, but never seen closely. Wilson had the pro- 
foundest veneration for the great statesman, and was immensely 
gratified at this compliment, coming as it did from one who was 
not meanly versed in ornithology. In 1806 the newspapers an- 
nounced that Mr. Jefferson had it in contemplation to send an 



220 SELF-MADE MEN. 

expedition, composed of men of science, to explore the country of 
the Mississippi. This was an opportunity not to be neglected. 
Wilson consulted with his friends Bartram and Lawson, and, 
with their approval, dispatched a memorial to the President, beg- 
ging that he might be included in the expedition as a practical 
ornithologist. It is probable that this memorial never reached 
its destination, for no reply was made to it. Notwithstanding 
this disheartening rebuff (if it may so be termed), better fortunes 
were in store for him. Mr. Samuel F. Bradford, a bookseller of 
Boston, being about to publish an edition of Rees' new Cyclo- 
paedia, Wilson was introduced to him as qualified to superintend 
the work, and was engaged at a liberal salary as assistant ed- 
itor. This unexpected, and, therefore, doubly welcome promo- 
tion did not divert his mind from the scheme it had so long and 
ardently nourished. Two days after he signed the contract, and 
when his exultation may be supposed to have been at its height, 
he wrote to Mr. Bartram : " This engagement will, I hope, enable 
me, in more ways than one, to proceed in my intended Ornitholo- 
gy, to which all my leisure moments will be devoted." He little 
thought, when he penned these lines, how soon his fondest hopes 
were to be realized. Not long after his engagement with Mr. 
Bradford, he communicated his plans to that gentleman, who, 
without any hesitation, approved them. He agreed to be the 
publisher of the work, and felt so much confidence in its success, 
that he volunteered to furnish the funds necessary for its comple- 
tion. If there was a happy man in the world, it was Wilson. 

Much of the material for the first two volumes was already 
completed. In various pedestrian tours, he had made himself 
thoroughly familiar with all the birds of the Northern and East- 
ern States, had noted their habits, peculiarities, and organization, 
and had transferred their forms to paper. It was proposed now 
to publish the first volume with all possible dispatch, after which 
Wilson might start on his travels, and, by making them both com- 
mercial and scientific, kill two birds with one stone. In other 
words, he was to take a copy under his arm as a sample, and ob- 
tain subscribers through the country. In September, 1808, the 
first volume made its appearance, and immediately Wilson set out 
in search of "birds and subscribers," as he says. It is unneces- 
sary to add that he obtained a much greater proportion of the 
former than the latter. The work was expensive, though beauti- 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 221 

ful, and was scientifically and artistically a novelty in advance of 
the age. But, although subscribers did not rush upon him with 
the violence he anticipated, he found in every important city some 
few cultivated and wealthy men who cheerfully placed their names 
on his list, and every where the work created unbounded admira- 
tion. In other respects the journey was invaluable to him. 
AYherever he could find the proper kind of man, he cultivated 
him, and begged a correspondence on all ornithological matters. 
In this way he placed the entire feathered tribe under severe es- 
pionage. Not a strange wing could be raised without his knowl- 
edge. In a commercial point of view the journey could not have 
been considered a failure, for, in spite of the enormous sum at 
which the work was published (one hundred and twenty dol- 
lars), he succeeded in getting forty-one subscribers. This number 
would be ridiculously small in the present day, when we are ac- 
customed to expensive works of art, and know better how to ap- 
preciate the genius that produces them ; but we must remember 
that it was different in Wilson's time. People knew nothing of 
the subject, and naturally hesitated at purchasing a book at what 
must have appeared a fabulous price. 

After his Eastern tour he remained a few days at home, and 
then started for the South, where his success was scarcely equal 
to his expectations. In the mean time the second volume of the 
Ornithology had made its appearance (January, 1810), and the 
remaining volumes were put in hand. He has left ample details 
of this tour, and, as they are extremely interesting, we shall make 
no apology for drawing largely from them. 

Wilson's first point was Lancaster, where he was introduced to 
the governor, who subscribed, and to many members of both 
houses, whom he describes as " a pitiful, squabbling, political 
mob ; so split up, and justling about the mere formalities of leg- 
islation, without knowing any thing of its realities," that he aban- 
doned them with disgust. From Lancaster he proceeded to Co- 
lumbia, and thence crossed the Susquehanna, cutting his way 
through the ice for several hundred yards. Passing on to York, 
he heard of an extraordinary character, between eighty and nine- 
ty years of age, who had lived by trapping birds and quadrupeds 
for upward of thirty years. Of course he paid a visit to this 
worthy, taking with him half a pound of snuff by way of peace- 
offering. Wilson showed him the Ornithology, and was much 



222 SELF-MADE MEN. 

diverted with the astonishment he expressed on looking at the 
plates. He could tell anecdotes of the greater part of the sub- 
jects of the first volume, and some of the second. We may sup- 
pose that the scientific and the practical ornithologists were im- 
mensely amused with each other. At Hanover, Wilson discover- 
ed a more singular being in the person of a learned judge, who 
took upon himself to say that such a book ought not to be en- 
couraged, as it was not within the reach of the commonalty, and 
therefore inconsistent with republican institutions. Wilson did 
not dispute this proposition, but combated it with another, name- 
ly, that the judge was a greater culprit than himself, in erecting 
a large, elegant, three-story brick house, so much beyond the 
reach of the commonalty, and, consequently, grossly contrary to 
republican institutions. He harangued the Solon more serious- 
ly, until, to use his own words, "he began to show symptoms of 
intellect." He proceeded quickly from place to place until he 
reached Pittsburg, where he made a diligent search for subscrib- 
ers. He was successful beyond his fondest hopes, having obtain- 
ed nineteen subscribers in three days. The road to Chilicothe 
being impassable, owing to the freshets, Wilson determined to 
navigate himself down to Cincinnati, a distance of five hundred 
and twenty-eight miles, in a small skiff, which he named the Or- 
nithologist. The expense of hiring a rower being considerable, 
he dispensed with that luxury, and, in spite of the opposition of 
his friends, embarked alone. The Alleghany River was one wide 
torrent of broken ice, and he calculated on experiencing consid- 
erable difficulty on this score. His stock of provisions consisted 
of some biscuit and cheese, and a bottle of cordial presented to 
him by a gentleman of Pittsburg. His gun, trunk, and great- 
coat occupied one end of the boat, and conveniently at hand was 
a tin measure, with which he bailed the boat and took his bever- 
age from the Ohio. Thus prepared, he bade adieu to the smoky 
confines of Pitt, launched into the stream, and was soon winding 
away among the hills which every where inclose the noble river. 
The weather was warm and serene, and the stream like a mirror, 
except where floating masses of ice spotted its surface ; but these 
soon disappeared. Far from being concerned at his novel situa- 
tion, he felt his heart expand with joy at the novelties which sur- 
rounded him. He listened with pleasure to the whistling of the 
redbird on the banks as he passed, and contemplated the forest 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 223 

scenery as it receded with increasing delight. Dissatisfied with 
the slow speed of the stream, which flowed at the rate of two and 
a half miles an hour only, he stripped to the oars, and added three 
and a half miles more to its velocity. He passed a number of 
arks, or Kentucky boats, and was much struck with their pecul- 
iarities. Several of these floating caravans were laden with store- 
goods for the supply of the towns and villages through which they 
passed, having a counter erected, shawls, muslins, etc., displayed, 
and every thing ready for transacting business. On approaching 
a settlement, they blow a horn or a tin trumpet, to announce to 
the inhabitants that they have arrived and commenced business. 

The first day he rowed twenty miles, and, experiencing no evil 
effects, made up his mind that he could " stand it." About an 
hour after dark he put up at a miserable cabin, about fifty-two 
miles from Pittsburg, where he slept on what he supposed to be 
corn-stalks, or something worse. He was so uncomfortable that 
he preferred the smooth bosom of the Ohio, and long before day 
resumed his journey. The landscape on each side lay in one 
mass of shade, but the grandeur of the projecting headlands and 
vanishing points or lines was charmingly reflected in the smooth, 
glassy surface below. He could only discover when he was pass- 
ing a clearing by the crowing of the cocks ; and now and then, in 
more solitary places, the big-horned owl made a most hideous 
hallooing, that echoed among the mountains. In this lonesome 
manner, with full leisure for observation and reflection, exposed 
to hardships all day and hard berths all night, to storms of rain, 
hail, and snow — for it froze severely almost every night — he per^ 
severed from the 24th of February (1810) to Sunday evening, 
March the 17th, when he moored his skiff safely in Bear-Grass 
Creek, at the Rapids of the Ohio. His hands had suffered, and 
it was some weeks before they resumed their former flexibility 
and feeling. 

At Marietta, Wilson visited the celebrated remains of Indian 
fortifications, as they are called, and also at Big-Grave Creek, 
seventy miles above. The Big Grave is three hundred paces 
round at the base, seventy feet perpendicular, and the top, which 
is about fifty feet over, has sunk in, forming a regular concavity 
three or four feet deep. This tumulus is in the form of a cone, 
and the whole, as well as its immediate neighborhood, is covered 
with a venerable growth of forest four or five hundred years old, 



224 SELF-MADE MEN. 

which gives it a most singular appearance. In clambering round 
its steep sides, Wilson found a place where a large white oak had 
been blown down, and had torn up the earth to the depth of five 
or six feet. In this place he commenced digging, but with no 
result. A person of the neighborhood, however, presented him 
with some beads, fashioned out of a kind of white stone, which 
were found in digging on the opposite side of the mound. Wilson 
met the owner of the Big Grave, a placid individual, who was per- 
fectly unconscious of the antiquarian treasures he possessed, and 
who, Wilson asserts, would not expend three cents to see the 
whole sifted before his face. He endeavored to work on his av- 
arice by representing the probability that it might contain valua- 
ble matters, and suggested to him a mode by which a passage 
might be cut into it level with the bottom, and by excavating and 
arching a most noble cellar might be formed for keeping his tur- 
nips and potatoes. " All the turnips and potatoes I shall raise 
this dozen years," said he, " would not pay the expense." 

On the 5 th of March he was overtaken by a severe storm of 
wind and rain, which changed to hail and snow, blowing down 
trees and limbs in all directions. For immediate preservation he 
was obliged to steer out into the river, which rolled and foamed 
like a sea, and filled his boat nearly half full of water. It was 
with the greatest difficulty that he could resist its fury, and it was 
not until dusk that he succeeded in making a landing at a place 
on the Kentucky shore. Here he spent the evening in learning 
the accomplishments of bear-treeing, wolf-trapping, and wild-cat- 
hunting from an old professor, but he was surprised to find that, 
notwithstanding the skill of this great master, the country abound- 
ed with wolves and wild-cats, black and brown. According to 
this distinguished hunter's own confession, he had lost sixty dogs 
since Christmas ; and all night long the distant howling of the 
wolves kept the dogs in a perfect uproar of barking. This man, 
says Wilson, was one of those people called squatters, who neither 
pay rent nor own land, but keep roving on the frontiers, retreat- 
ing as the tide of civilization approaches. They are the immedi- 
ate successors of the savages, and far below them in good sense 
and good manners, as well as comfortable accommodations. 
Nothing, however, adds more to the savage grandeur and pictur- 
esque effect of the scenery along the Ohio than their miserable 
huts lurking at the bottom of a gigantic growth of timber. It is 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 225 

amusing to observe how dear and how familiar habit has rendered 
those privations, which must have first been the offspring of ne- 
cessity. Yet none pride themselves more on their possessions. 
The inhabitants of these forlorn sheds will talk to you with pride 
of the richness of their soil, of the excellence and abundance of 
their country, of the healthiness of their climate, and the purity 
of their waters, while the only bread you find among them is of 
Indian corn coarsely ground in a horse-mill, with half the grains 
unbroken ; even their cattle are destitute of stables and hay, and 
look like moving skeletons ; their own houses are worse than 
pig-styes ; their clothes an assemblage of rags ; their faces yellow, 
and lank with disease ; and their persons covered with filth, and 
frequently garnished with the humors of the Scotch " fiddle" — a 
disease which Wilson escaped with much thankfulness. Their 
condition he attributes to laziness. The corn is thrown into the 
ground in spring, and the pigs turned into the woods, where they 
multiply like rabbits. The labor of the squatter is now over till 
autumn, and he spends his winter in eating pork, cabbage, and 
hoe-cakes. 

Amid very tempestuous weather he reached Cincinnati, which 
city he describes with minuteness. From this point he made va- 
rious excursions. He entered Big-Bone Creek, which being pass- 
able only about a quarter of a mile, he had to leave his boat and 
baggage in charge of a family hard by, and set out for Big-Bone 
Lick, a distance of five miles, through the woods on foot. This 
place, which lies " far in the windings of a sheltered vale," afford- 
ed him a fund of amusement in shooting ducks and paroquets 
(of which last he skinned twelve, and brought off two slightly 
wounded), and in examining the ancient buffalo roads to this 
great licking-place. Mr. Colquhoun, the proprietor, was not at 
home, but his agent and manager entertained him as well as he 
was able, and was much amused with his enthusiasm. This place 
is a low valley, every where surrounded by high hills ; jn the cen- 
tre, by the side of the creek, is a quagmire of near an acre ; from 
which, and another smaller one below, the chief part of the big 
bones which give the place its name have been taken ; at the lat- 
ter places he found numerous fragments of large bones lying scat- 
tered about. Li pursuing a wounded duck across this quagmire, 
he nearly made a human contribution to the grand congregation 
of mammoths below. He su*ik up to the middle, and had hard 

K2 



226 SELF-MADE MEN. 

struggling to get out. On leaving, he laid the strongest injunc- 
tions on the manager to be on the look-out, and to preserve every 
thing that might be turned up. To make assurance doubly sure, 
he left a note for the proprietor, impressing on him the same im- 
portant matter. In the afternoon of the next day he returned to 
his boat, replaced his baggage, and once more floated out with the 
stream. It rained hard all the day, and he had to row hard and 
drink hard (he had purchased a solitary bottle of native wine at 
a Swiss settlement) to keep himself comfortable. The pockets of 
his great-coat were filled with bird-skins, and the garment itself 
covered others which he wished to preserve ; consequently, there 
was no room for the owner, who got a complete drenching for his 
disinterestedness. In the evening he lodged at a wretched hovel, 
owned by a diminutive wretch, who did nothing but tell falsehoods 
concerning his former greatness. According to this worthy's own 
account, he had gone through all the war with General Washing- 
ton, had become one of his Life Guards, and had sent many a Brit- 
ish soldier to his long home. As Wilson answered with indiffer- 
ence, he attempted to stimulate his curiosity by still stronger doses, 
administered in the shape of anecdote?. " One day," he said, "a 
grenadier had the impudence to get up on the works, and to wave 
his cap in defiance ; my commander (General Washington) says 
to me, 'Dick,' says he, i can't you pepper that there fellow for 
me V says he. 6 Please your honor,' says I, ' I'll try at it ;' so I 
took a fair, cool, and steady aim, and touched my trigger. Up 
went his heels like a turkey ; down he tumbled ; one buckshot 
had entered here, and another there (laying a finger on each breast), 
and the bullet found, the way to his brains right through his fore- 
head. By God, he was a noble-looking fellow !" Though Wil- 
son believed every word of this to be a lie, yet he could not but 
look with disgust on the being who uttered it. This same mis- 
creant pronounced a long prayer before supper, and immediately 
after called out, in a splutter of oaths, for the pine splinters to be 
held to let the gentleman see. Such a farrago of lies, oaths, 
prayers, and politeness put him in a good humor in spite of him- 
self. The whole herd of this filthy kennel were in perpetual mo- 
tion with the itch ; so, having procured a large fire to be made, 
under pretense of habit, he sought for the softest plank, placed 
his trunk and greatrcoat at his head, and stretched himself there 
till morning. He set out early, and passed several arks. A 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 227 

number of turkeys, which he observed from time to time on the 
Indiana shore, caused him to lose half the morning in search of 
them. On the Kentucky shore he was also decoyed by the same 
temptations, but could never approach near enough to shoot one 
of them. These affairs led to so much delay, that he became du- 
bious whether he should be able to reach Louisville that night. 
Night came on, and he could hear nothing of the Falls ; about 
eight o'clock he first heard the roaring of the rapids, and as it in- 
creased he was every moment in hopes of seeing the lights of 
Louisville ; but no lights appeared, and the noise seemed now 
within less than half a mile's distance. Seriously alarmed lest 
he might be drawn into the suction of the Falls, he cautiously 
coasted along shore, which was full of snags and sawyers, and at 
length, with great satisfaction, reached Bear-Grass Creek, where 
he secured his skiff to a Kentucky boat, and, loading himself with 
his baggage, groped his way through a swamp up to the town. 
The next day Wilson sold his skiff for exactly half what it cost 
him. The man who bought it expressed his surprise at its droll 
Indian name (the Ornithologist): "Some old chief or warrior, I 
suppose," said he. 

From Kentucky Wilson proceeded to Tennessee. On his way 
he passed through a pigeon-roost, or rather breeding-place, which 
continued for three miles, and, he was informed, extended in 
length for more than forty miles. The timber was chiefly beech ; 
every tree was laden with nests, and he counted in different places 
more than ninety nests on a single tree. Shortly after this he 
fell in with a poor unfortunate soldier, who had been robbed and 
plundered by the Choctaws while passing through their nation. 
" Thirteen or fourteen Indians," he said, " surrounded me before 
I was aware, cut away my canteen, tore off my hat, took the 
handkerchief from my neck and the shoes from my feet, and all 
the money I had from me, which was about forty-five dollars." 
Wilson says that the poor fellow looked pretty much " done up." 
The caves and sink-holes in Kentucky were objects of great curi- 
osity to Wilson, and he never missed an opportunity of exploring 
them. One of these remarkable places belonged to a man who 
had a notoriously bad character, and was strongly suspected, even 
by his neighbors, of having committed a foul murder, and made 
use of this identical cave as a place of concealment for the body. 
As this man's house stood by the road side, Wilson was induced 



228 SELF-MADE MEN. 

by motives of curiosity to stop and take a peep at him. On his 
arrival he found two persons in conversation under the piazza, one 
of whom informed him that he was the landlord. He was a dark 
mulatto, rather above the common size, inclining to corpulency, 
with legs small in proportion to the other parts of his body, and 
a limp in his gait. His countenance bespoke a soul capable of 
deeds of darkness. Wilson had not been three minutes in his 
company when the landlord invited the other man and Wilson to 
walk back and see his cave, to which all parties assented. The 
entrance was in the perpendicular front of a rock behind the 
house, and had a door with a lock and key to it. It was used 
as a cellar, and pots of milk and other dairy arrangements were 
crowded near the running stream which passed through it. The 
roof and sides were dripping with water. Desiring the landlord 
to walk before him with the light, Wilson followed, with his hand 
on his pistol, reconnoitring on every side, and listening to his de- 
scription of its length and extent. After examining this horrible 
vault for forty or fifty yards, the mulatto declined to go any farther, 
complaining of rheumatism in his black legs. Wilson now per- 
ceived, for the first time, that the landlord's friend had not accom- 
panied them, and that they were alone. Confident in his means of 
defense, whatever mischief the devil might suggest to his compan- 
ion, he fixed his eye steadily on the landlord, and observed to him 
that he could not be ignorant of the reports circulated about the 
country relative to that cave. " I suppose," said he, "you know 
what I mean." " Yes, I understand you," returned the mulatto, 
without appearing the least embarrassed — "that I killed some- 
body, and threw them into this cave. I can tell you the whole 
beginning of that damned lie ;" and, without moving from the spot, 
he entered into the details of a long story. When this labored 
exculpation came to an end, Wilson asked him why he did not get 
the cave examined by three or four reputable neighbors, whose re- 
port might rescue his character from the suspicion of having com- 
mitted so horrid a crime. He acknowledged it would be well 
enough to do so, but did not seem to think it worth the trouble. 
At Nashville, Tennessee, Wilson remained for some days, busily 
engaged in making a set of drawings of all the birds he had seen. 
These were forwarded to Mr. Lawson, being, of course, intend- 
ed for the American Ornithology. Unfortunately, they were nev- 
er received. The post-office in those days was even worse than 






ALEXANDER WILSON. 229 

it is now. When he had completed his arrangements, Wilson 
made preparations for a visit to St. Louis ; but, being detained a 
week by constant and heavy rains, and considering that it would 
add four hundred miles to his journey, and detain him at least a 
month, without even the expectation of obtaining many subscrib- 
ers, he abandoned the idea, and prepared instead for a journey 
through the wilderness. He was advised by many not to attempt 
it alone ; that the Indians were dangerous, the swamps and rivers 
almost impassable without assistance. All sorts of arguments 
were used to dissuade him from going alone. He weighed all 
these matters in his own mind, and, attributing a great deal to 
vulgar fear and exaggerated reports, he equipped himself for the 
attempt. He had an excellent horse, on which he could depend ; 
a loaded pistol in each pocket, a loaded fowling-piece belted across 
his shoulder, a pound of gunpowder in his flask, and five pounds 
of shot in his belt. He next procured some dried beef and biscuit, 
and on the 4th of May left Nashville. Eleven miles from this 
city he came to the Great Harpath, a stream of about fifty yards 
wide, which was running with great violence. He could not dis- 
cover the entrance to the ford owing to the rains and inundations. 
There was no time to be lost, so he plunged in, and almost imme- 
diately his horse was swimming. He arrived on the other side in 
safety, and had the pleasure of riding in his wet clothes until the 
sun made them dry. He repeated this experiment several times, 
and, thanks to the strength of his horse, always with success, al- 
though at times he was nearly knocked from his seat by coming in 
contact with drift-wood. 

On the borders of the Indian country stands the house where 
the unfortunate traveler, Lewis, committed suicide. Wilson took 
down from the landlady the particulars of that event. Gov- 
ernor Lewis, she said, came thither about sunset, alone, and in- 
quired if he could stay for the night, and, alighting, brought his 
saddle into the house. He was dressed in a loose gown, white, 
striped with blue. On being asked if he came alone, he replied 
that there were two servants behind, who would soon be up. He 
called for some spirits, and drank a very little. When the serv- 
ants arrived, one of whom was a negro, he inquired for his pow- 
der, saying he was sure he had some powder in a canister. The 
servant gave no distinct reply, and Lewis, in the mean while, 
walked backward and forward before the door, talking to himself. 



230 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Sometimes, she said, lie would seem as if he were walking up to 
her, and would suddenly wheel round, and walk back as fast as 
he could. Supper being ready, he sat down, but had eaten only 
a few mouthfuls when he started up, speaking to himself in a vio- 
lent manner. At these times, she said, she observed his face to 
flush, as if it had come on him in a fit. He lighted his pipe, and, 
drawing a chair to the door, sat down, saying to Mrs. Grinder (the 
landlady), in a kind voice, " Madam, this is a very pleasant even- 
ing." He smoked his pipe for some time, but quitted his seat and 
traversed the yard as before. He said he would sleep on the floor, 
and his servant brought bearskins and a buffalo-robe, which were 
immediately spread out for him. The landlady then retired to the 
kitchen, which was in the adjoining apartment. She experienced 
some alarm at the strange behavior of her guest, and could not 
sleep. He was still pacing his apartment in an agitated manner, 
and talking loud, as she said, "like a lawyer." Suddenly she 
heard the report of a pistol, and simultaneously the fall of a heavy 
body on the floor, accompanied with the agonized exclamation, 
"Oh Lord!" Immediately afterward she heard the report of an- 
other pistol, and in a few minutes she heard him at her door call- 
ing out, " Oh, madam, give me some water and heal my wounds" 
The logs being open and unplastered, she saw him stagger back 
and fall against a stump that stands between the kitchen and room. 
He crawled for some distance, and raised himself by the side of a 
tree, where he sat for about a minute. He once more got to the 
room ; afterward he went to the kitchen door, but did not speak. 
She then heard him scraping the bucket with a gourd for water, 
but this cooling element was denied the dying man. The woman 
was so completely paralyzed by the terrible tragedy that she did 
not move for two hours. Servants were then aroused, and on 
entering the room they found the poor fellow on the bed, still alive. 
He uncovered his side, and showed them where the bullet had 
entered. A piece of his forehead was blown off, and had exposed 
the brains without having bled much. He begged they would take 
his rifle and dispatch him, and he would give them all the money- 
he had in his trunk, exclaiming, " I am no coward ; but I am so 
strong — so hard to die." He begged the servant not to be afraid 
of him, for he would not hurt him. In this dreadful condition 
he remained for two hours. Just as the sun rose above the trees 
his mortal sufferings terminated. Few men can read this heart- 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 231 

rending story of a gallant officer Without deep emotion. It made 
a deep and sad impression on Wilson, who gazed now upon his 
grave close by the common path. He gave Grinder money to 
put a post-fence round it, to shelter it from the hogs and from 
the wolves, and left the place in a very melancholy mood. The 
remaining incidents of his journey through the wilderness were 
not remarkable, except toward the end, when he was attacked by 
a dysentery, and cured himself, as he supposed, by eating raw eggs. 
He was assailed, also, by a tremendous storm of rain, wind, and 
lightning, until he and his horse were both blinded, and unable 
to go on. Aware of his danger, he sought the first open space, 
and, dismounting, stood for half an hour under the most profuse 
shower-bath he had ever experienced from above. The roaring 
of the storm was terrible ; several trees around him were broken 
off and torn up by the roots, and those that stood were bent al- 
most to the ground. Limbs of trees, weighing several hundred 
pounds, whisked past him like feathers. He was astonished how 
he escaped, and said afterward that he would rather take his 
chance in a field of battle than in such a storm. 

On the fourteenth day of his journey he arrived at Natchez, 
having overcome every obstacle alone, and without being ac- 
quainted with the country. What astonished the boatmen even 
more than this was the fact that the journey was performed with- 
out whisky. From Natchez Wilson proceeded to New Orleans, 
where he arrived on the 6th of June. The approach of the sick- 
ly season warned him not to tarry long in this city, and accord- 
ingly, on the 24th he embarked in a ship bound for New York, 
where he arrived on the 30th of July, and soon reached Philadel- 
phia, laden with a light cargo of subscribers, and a much more 
valuable one of ornithological specimens, many of which were en- 
tirely unknown to naturalists. 

In the early part of 1812, Wilson published the fifth volume 
of his Ornithology, and the following volumes, up to the seventh, 
appeared as rapidly as the nature of the work would admit. The 
difficulty of obtaining efficient assistance became very embarrass- 
ing, and exposed Wilson to a vast amount of annoyance. Lie was 
compelled to color many of the plates himself, and the closeness 
with which he applied himself to this task was no doubt prejudi- 
cial to his health. As soon as the seventh volume made its ap- 
pearance, its author and Mr. Ord (his biographer) set out on an 



232 SELF-MADE MEN. 

expedition to Great Egg Harbor, New Jersey, where they re- 
mained for nearly four weeks, collecting materials for the eighth 
volume. Immediately on his return to Philadelphia he applied 
himself with fresh enthusiasm to his task, and by August had 
completed the letter-press for the eighth volume, though the 
whole of the plates were not finished. The confinement and in- 
tense application which this demanded were more than his frame 
could sustain. He was seized with a fresh attack of dysentery, 
and after suffering under it for ten days, died on the 23d of Au- 
gust, 1813, in the forty-seventh year of his age. His remains 
were deposited in the cemetery of the Swedish Church, in the 
District of Southwark, Philadelphia. A plain marble tomb marks 
the spot, bearing an appropriate inscription. 

That the industry of Wilson was equal to his natural talents 
is proved by the fact that in little more -than seven years, " with- 
out patron, fortune, or recompense," he accomplished more than 
the combined body of European naturalists had achieved in a 
century. We need no further evidence of his unparalleled in- 
dustry than the fact that of two hundred and seventy-five spe- 
cies which were figured and described in his American Ornithol- 
ogy> fifty-six had not been taken notice of by any former natural- 
ist. In estimating this devotion to .science, we must bear in mind 
the disadvantages under which he labored. By the terms of his 
contract with his publishers, he bound himself to supply all the 
drawings and letter-press necessary for the work ; notwithstand- 
ing which, we find him, immediately after the publication of the 
first volume, undertaking all the hardships and annoyances of a 
canvasser. On his journey, to be sure, he gained valuable speci- 
mens, and contributed to his general ornithological knowledge, 
but he was unable to proceed in the literary portion of the work. 
Long before the seventh volume was issued the publishers felt 
disheartened. The success of the work did not satisfy their ex- 
pectations, and to continue its publication became merely a mat- 
ter of professional pride with them. Wilson could not be un- 
mindful of this fact, and it must have pained him sadly. It is, 
indeed, remarkable that, in spite of these drawbacks, he perse- 
vered ; but they account for the willingness with which he un- 
dertook more than his share of the work. He was anxious to 
get through with it as rapidly as possible, dreading, perhaps, 
that the enthusiasm of the publishers might wane at any mo- 



ALEXANDER WILSON. 233 

ment, or, at all events, desiring to relieve them of an unwelcome 
burden. 

" Independent of that part of his work which was Wilson's par- 
ticular province, viz., the drawing and describing of his subjects, 
he was necessitated," says Mr. Ord, " to occupy much of his time 
in coloring the plates ; his sole resource for support being in this 
employment, as he had been compelled to relinquish the superin- 
tendence of the Cyclopaedia. This drudgery of coloring the plates 
is a circumstance much to be regretted, as the work would have 
proceeded more rapidly if he could have avoided it. One of his 
principal difficulties, in effect, and that which caused him no 
small uneasiness, was the process of coloring. If this could have 
been done solely by himself, or — as he was obliged to seek assist- 
ance therein — if it could have been performed immediately under 
his eye, he would have been relieved of much anxiety, and would 
have better maintained a due equanimity, his mind being daily 
ruffled by the negligence of his assistants, who too often, through 
a deplorable want of skill and taste, made disgusting caricatures 
of what were intended to be modest imitations of simple nature. 
Hence much of his precious time was spent in the irksome em- 
ployment of inspecting and correcting the imperfections of others. 
This waste of his stated periods of labor he felt himself constrain- 
ed to compensate by encroachments on those hours which nature, 
conscious of her rights, claims as her own — hours which she con- 
secrates to rest — which she will not forego without a struggle, 
and which all those who would preserve unimpaired the vigor of 
their mind and body must respect. Of this intense and destruct- 
ive application his friends failed not to admonish him, but to 
their kind remonstrances he would reply that ' life is short, and 
without exertion nothing can be performed.' But the true cause 
of this extraordinary toil ivas his poverty." 

And thus Alexander "Wilson died from over-exertion in trying 
to gain a living by coloring the plates of that work which was 
destined to make his name illustrious. 



EDMUND CABTWKIGHT. 

Among the names of those eminent inventors who have given 
to the useful arts and to manufactures their present importance — 
who have in the most direct and perceptible way benefited the 
civilization of the world — the name of Edmund Cartwright, the 
inventor of the power-loom, deserves to be borne in warm and 
grateful remembrance. Although not strictly a self-made man, he 
owes his reputation entirely to himself, and as he obtained this at 
an advanced period of life, his story furnishes the instructive les- 
son that it is never too late to exert the highest faculties of the 
mind, even when they have been occupied in utterly different 
pursuits to those to which they are now newly called. 

Edmund Cartwright was born in the year 1743, at Marnham, 
in the county of Nottingham, England. His family was ancient 
and respectable, although in somewhat reduced circumstances. 
Being intended for the Church, Edmund had more than ordinary 
care bestowed on his education. After leaving the school at 
Wakefield, he was sent to University College, Oxford, and sub- 
sequently was elected a fellow of Magdalen College. When the 
time arrived for taking holy orders, he was appointed to the liv- 
ing of Brampton, near Chesterfield, and afterward of Goadby- 
Marwood in Leicestershire. At an early age he displayed some 
literary ability, and published, anonymously, a collection of poet- 
ical pieces. In 1770 he published, in his own name, a legend- 
ary poem entitled " Armida and Elvira," which was received with 
much favor, and passed through several editions in a short time. 
He wrote, also, the "Prince of Peace," and sonnets to "Emi- 
nent Men." After this he became a regular contributor to the 
"Monthly Review," and a literary correspondent with many em- 
inent persons. 

In these congenial and tranquil callings Cartwright' s life pass- 
ed away peacefully and profitably until his fortieth year. Hap- 
pening to be at Matlock in the summer of 1784, he fell in com- 
pany with some Manchester gentlemen, whose conversation was 
destined to change the whole tenor of his life. They talked of 



EDMUND CARTWRIGHT. 235 

manufacturing, and especially of Arkwright's spinning machinery. 
One of the company observed that, as soon as Arkwright's pat- 
ent expired, so many mills would be erected, and so much cot- 
ton spun, that hands would never be found to weave it. To this 
the listener replied that Arkwright must then set his wits to work 
to invent a weaving-mill. This led to a conversation on the sub- 
ject, in which the Manchester gentlemen unanimously agreed that 
the thing was impracticable, and in defense of their opinion they 
adduced arguments which Cartwright was certainly incompetent 
to answer, or even to comprehend, being totally ignorant of the 
subject, having never, at the time, seen a person weave. He con- 
troverted, however, the impracticability of the thing by remark- 
ing that there had been lately exhibited in London an automaton 
figure which played at chess. "Now you will not assert, gen- 
tlemen," said Cartwright, " that it is more difficult to construct a 
machine that shall weave, than one that shall make all the vari- 
ety of moves that are required in that complicated game." Some 
time afterward, a particular conversation recalled this conversa- 
tion to his mind. It struck him that, as in plain weaving, ac- 
cording to the conception he then had of the business, there could 
only be three movements, which were to follow each other in suc- 
cession, there could be little difficulty in producing and repeating 
them. Full of these ideas, he immediately employed a carpenter 
and smith to carry them into effect. As soon as the rough model 
was finished, he got a weaver to put in the warp, which was of 
such materials as sailcloth is usually made of. To his great de- 
light, a piece of rough cloth was the result. His delight was un- 
bounded, for it proved that his theory was correct. As he had 
never before turned his thoughts to mechanism, either in theory 
or practice, nor had seen a loom at work, nor knew any thing of 
its construction, it will be readily supposed that his machine was 
a rough one. The warp was laid perpendicularly, the reed fell 
with a force of at least half a hundred weight, and the springs 
which threw the shuttle were strong enough to have thrown a 
Congreve rocket. It required the strength of two powerful men 
to work the machine at a slow rate and only for a short time. 
" Conceiving, in my simplicity," says Cartwright, " that I had ac- 
complished all that was required, I then secured what I thought 
a most valuable property by a patent, dated 4th of April, 1785. 
This being done, I then condescended to see how other people 



236 SELF-MADE MEN. 

wove, and you will guess my astonishment when I compared their 
easy modes of operation with mine. Availing myself, however, 
of what I then saw, I made a loom, in its general principles near- 
ly as they are now made ; but it was not till the year 1787 that 
I completed my invention, when I took out my last weaving pat- 
ent, August the 1st of that year." Mr. Cartwright made an im- 
provement in this loom subsequently, by which patterns in checks 
could be executed with beautiful precision. 

Notwithstanding the obvious advantages of Mr. Cartwright's 
machinery, there was great difficulty in introducing it, mainly 
owing to the opposition of the laboring classes, who imagined that 
their simple lives would be ground out by the iron monster. A 
factory was erected at Doncaster by some of Cartwright's friends, 
in which he had an interest, but it was unsuccessful. Another 
establishment, fitted up with five hundred looms on the new prin- 
ciple, was set upon by an exasperated mob and utterly destroyed. 
The inventors of labor-saving machines have always these mass- 
ive difficulties to deal with and to overcome. In Cartwright's 
case it took some years, but he lived to see his machines in full 
favor, and to know that they performed the labor of two hundred 
thousand men. 

Cartwright's next invention was to comb ivool by machinery. 
Here, again, he was met by popular opposition, and not only this, 
but by fraudulent attempts to evade his rights. The machines, 
however, triumphed, and came into general use. Dr. Cartwright 
now exercised his ingenuity in a variety of ways, giving himself 
up entirely to the pleasant excitement of invention. He took out 
more patents, and received several premiums from the Society for 
the Encouragement of Arts and the Board of Agriculture. The 
steam-engine engaged much attention, and he used to tell his son 
(how prophetically time has proved) that, if he lived to be a man, 
he would see both ships and land-carriages impelled by steam. 
" It is also certain," says Mr. Craik, " that at that early period 
he had constructed a model of a steam-engine attached to a barge, 
which he explained, about the year 1793, in the presence of his 
family, to Robert Fulton, then a student of painting under West. 
Later in life, Cartwright engaged himself in the construction of a 
steam-carriage to run on common roads, but death prevented the 
completion of his plans. This event took place in October, 1823. 
He continued his mechanical and philosophical experiments up to 



EDMUND CARTWRIGHT. 237 

the last with unabated vigor, and enjoyed excellent health, men- 
tal and physical. On the anniversary of his 77th year, he wrote 
to his brother, "I this day entered into my 77th year in as good 
health and spirits, thank God, as I have done on any one birth- 
day for the last half century. I am moving about my farm from 
eight o'clock in the morning till four in the afternoon, without 
suffering the least fatigue." 

Some curious things are related of Cartwright, which tend to 
prove that he was a very absorbed or a very forgetful man. He 
would sometimes lose all memory of his own inventions and oth- 
er productions of an early date, even when his attention was par- 
ticularly called to them. On one occasion a daughter repeated 
some lines from a poem. " They are beautiful, child ; where did 
you meet with them f M he asked ; and it was with the greatest 
astonishment he heard they were from his own poem of the 
"Prince of Peace." At another time, being shown the model of 
a machine, he examined it with great attention, and at last ob- 
served that the inventor must have been a man of great ingenu- 
ity, and that he himself should feel very proud if he had been 
the author of the contrivance ; nor could he be immediately con- 
vinced that such was actually the fact. We give these anecdotes 
for what they are worth, merely remarking that they are curious. 

Defective specifications, loose patents, and greedy imitators all 
combined to rob Cartwright of the just reward of his ingenuity. 
From his power-loom — the most important of all his inventions 
— he received little or nothing in the way of remuneration, cer- 
tainly nothing to compensate him for the loss he sustained at the 
fire where five hundred of these machines were destroyed. After 
the expiration of the patent, however, a number of manufactur- 
ers and merchants, who recognized his claim to the invention, 
presented a memorial to the Lords of the Treasury setting forth 
the merits of his improvements, and begging that the national 
bounty might be bestowed upon him. In consequence of this and 
other applications in his favor, the sum of fifty thousand dollars 
was soon after granted to him by Parliament, " in consideration 
of the good service he had rendered the public by his invention 
of weaving." This sum, large as it appears, was smaller than he 
had expended on his products, but it enabled him to pass the re- 
mainder of his life in comfortable retirement, and in a manner 
suited to his tastes and education. He was eighty-one years of 
aire at the time of his death. 




COUNT KUMFOKD. 

Benjamin Thompson, more widely known by his title of 
Count Rumford, was born at Woburn, in the colony of Massa- 
chusetts, on the 26th of March, 1753. At an early age he was 
sent to the public school of his native town, where he speedily 
acquired a knowledge of reading, writing, and arithmetic, so that 
in a little time the worthy pedagogue of the establishment had 
no more knowledge to impart to his greedy scholar. It became 
necessary, therefore, to remove him to a private establishment, 
where a more exclusive kind of tuition could be obtained. He is 
said to have made rapid progress in the study of astronomy, and 
also in the mathematics. 

At the age of sixteen young Thompson took hity place on the 
high stool of a counting-room, and became a punctual and observ- 
ant clerk ; but the routine of the occupation was not in accord- 
ance with his tastes, and he diversified it by continuing his studies 
in astronomy and the physical sciences. He was an extremely in- 
genious lad — a natural mechanic, to whom tools were as so many 
additional hands. Among his early achievements, his biographers 
dwell on an engraved label which he executed for his books, and 



COUNT EUMFORD. 239 

which they assert was the first work of the kind ever done in 
America. The design was extremely luxuriant, and must have 
cost young Thompson an immense amount of trouble and patience. 
When the Stamp Act w T as repealed — this is another story related 
of our hero — Thompson undertook to manufacture a quantity of 
fireworks to fire off in honor of the American triumph. He knew 
all about the proper mixtures for producing the gay display, but 
he seems to have been strangely ignorant of the great danger of 
packing and preparing them. An apothecaries' shop was selected 
as the most handy laboratory, and Thompson set about his task 
with his usual earnestness. As might be expected, an explosion 
took place ; the unfortunate operator was seriously injured, and 
had to be removed to his mother's house, where he remained sev- 
eral weeks in a critical state. The town of Salem (where he was 
employed) had to go without its pyrotechnical display. 

When he had recovered from the effects of this accident, he re- 
turned to his desk ; but, in consequence of the commercial stagna- 
tion which followed the non-importation agreement, his employer 
had no farther need of a clerk, and Thompson had to seek his 
fortunes in a new sphere of action. During the winter of 1769, 
therefore, he taught a school at Wilmington, and did not resume 
commercial pursuits until the following year, when he received an 
engagement in a dry goods store in Boston. This was of short 
duration, and for some time he was without employment. He 
made the most of his spare time, however. A course of lectures 
were being delivered at Harvard College on experimental philoso- 
phy, and, although not a student of that establishment, he obtained 
permission to hear the course, and derived much benefit from the 
experiments which he saw performed, and which he repeated the 
moment he returned to his lodgings. 

In the autumn of 1770 he was intrusted with the charge of the 
academy at Rumford (now called Concord), and was received with 
great favor hi that town. Besides being accomplished, he was 
handsome and manly, and had an open, frank way with- him which 
won all hearts. He became, in consequence, a great pet with the 
ladies, and especially so with Mrs. Rolfe, the widow of a colonel, 
who possessed an estate of some magnitude for those days. She 
was considerably Thompson's senior, but, in spite of this drawback, 
retained much of the winning way of youth, and was eminently a 
charming person. The result was a perfectly natural one. On the 



940 SELF-MADE MEN. 

closing of the school in 1772 Thompson and the widow proceeded 
together to Boston, where he invested his limbs in a magnificent 
suit of garments. From this city he proceeded to astonish the little 
world of AVoburn, and, on presenting himself before his mother, 
won from her the reproachful exclamation, " Why, Ben, my child ! 
how could you spend your whole winter's wages in this way?" 
Having obtained the assent of his parent, he returned to Rumford, 
and was immediately wedded. By right of fortune as well as right 
of intellect, he now became one of the aristocracy of the colonies. 
At that time all parties were more or less convulsed with the angry 
strife occasioned by the tyrannic claims of England, but Thompson 
does not appear to have been in the slightest degree affected with 
them. He abandoned himself apparently to the enjoyment of his 
wealth, and freely attended all the places of amusement and fash- 
ionable resort. He had worked hard, and now felt disposed to 
enjoy a little recreation. His affable manners and cultivated mind 
enabled him to make acquaintance with the most prominent men. 
Among those who became greatly attached to him was Governor 
Wentworth. On the first opportunity, he proved his preference 
by bestowing on Thompson the commission of major in a regiment 
of New Hampshire militia, thus raising him at once directly over 
the heads of all the captains and subalterns of the corps. It may 
have been Governor Went worth's wish to enlist the sympathies of 
his young friend in the cause of the mother country, and, although 
it is certain he did not entirely succeed, it is probable his liberal 
and appreciative policy was not without a result. We may safely 
conclude that Thompson would not have accepted the commission 
if his views had been very hostile to the English government. At 
a time when every man is supposed to be arrayed on one side or 
the other of a great question, moderation and neutrality are certain 
to excite suspicion. His brother officers in the corps, dissatisfied 
with the favoritism of his promotion, spread all sorts of rumors 
about him, and endeavored to injure his popularity. They were 
successful in playing on the excited feelings of the mob, and in 
November, 1774, Thompson received an intimation that his life 
was in danger, and that he would assuredly be tarred and feath- 
ered. There was no resource to avert the danger and indignity 
but to escape with the greatest precipitation. At Woburn he 
sought his first refuge, but the rumor of his Tory predilections 
had preceded him, and that quiet town was no longer safe. From 



COUNT RUMFOKD. 241 

Woburn he removed to Charlestown, where he remained for some 
months, after which he removed to Boston, which was at the time 
garrisoned by the British army under Gage. He made a fresh 
attempt to return to Woburn in the following year, under the 
impression that the excitement against him had subsided ; but he 
was not long in discovering his mistake. The house in which he 
lived was surrounded by an armed mob, savage with the fiercest 
hatred against Tories, who demanded that he might be brought 
forth. Fortunately, a conspicuous patriot resided in the same 
building, and, owing to his timely intervention, the major was 
saved from the tender mercies of his enemies. That he deeply 
felt the indignities to which he was exposed, to say nothing of 
the danger, is proved by the course he subsequently adopted. 
Feeling his own innocence, he demanded from the provisional 
government of the colonies a trial. He was placed in arrest, and 
advertisements were inserted in the papers inviting all who knew 
any thing against him to appear. The necessity for this bold step 
was increased by the eagerness Thompson felt to join the cause 
of his country at the head of his regiment. 

The day of trial arrived, and the meeting-house was crowded. 
No specific charges were made against him, but his hostility to 
the American cause was argued by implication. Thus it was as- 
serted that he had hired two British soldiers, who had deserted, 
to work on his farm ; that, when he was in Boston, these men be- 
ing desirous to return to their allegiance, he had interceded with 
the British general to avert the punishment which the army award- 
ed to deserters, in consequence of Avhich intercession the men 
did return. Thompson defended himself on broad philanthropic 
grounds, and the court declared that it could not condemn him, 
but, as a concession to the popular excitement, it refused to exon- 
erate him entirely from blame, or give him a full acquittal. This 
course he denounced upon the spot, and immediately petitioned 
the Committee of Safety, by whom the matter was referred to the 
Provincial Congress. The latter refused to grant the petition. 

It is creditable to Thompson that, instead of seeking safety 
within the lines of the enemy, he retired to the camp of his own 
countrymen, who were by this time engaged in the siege of Bos- 
ton. Here he employed himself in drilling the undisciplined re- 
cruits, and in making himself generally useful ; but the obloquy 
which attached to his name could not be removed even by this 



242 SELF-MADE MEN. 

devotion. He soon discovered that there was no hope of promo- 
tion for him ; that he was an object of suspicion ; and that he 
could not move from place to place within the lines of the army. 
Dispirited and wounded in his susceptibilities, it is not remarka- 
ble that he wearied of this hopeless struggle against prejudice, and 
resolved to leave an army which would not even look on him as a 
friend. His preparations for departure were conducted without 
the slightest attempt at secrecy. He converted into money all 
the property he could dispose of, paid oiF his debts, and about the 
10th of October, 1775, left Cambridge. From that time to the 
close of the Revolutionary struggle his friends and relatives were 
without any positive tidings of his fate. 

After leaving Cambridge, Thompson proceeded to Newport, 
probably with the intention of escaping by sea. Here he found a 
boat belonging to the British ship Scarborough, on board of which 
he was received. He appears to have remained in this vessel for 
several days, and then took passage in her to Boston. It is incred- 
ible that he went to this city of his own free will ; we must rather 
suppose that he shipped himself on board the Scarborough under 
the impression that she was bound for some foreign port, and that 
he only discovered his mistake when it was too late to correct it. 
Certain it is that he went to Boston ; was landed there, and re- 
mained in the city during all the operations of the American army, 
even to the moment of their triumphal entry. So securely was he 
hidden, however, that his nearest friends were unconscious of his 
whereabouts. During his stay in Boston he renewed his acquaint- 
ance with the English commander-in-chief (who was himself mar- 
ried to an American lady), and appears to have won the confidence 
of that officer. We have no evidence that Thompson was em- 
ployed against his countrymen. If he harbored some resentment 
against them for the cruel way in which he had been treated, 
it is scarcely probable that it went to the extent of hostility to 
their interests, or of unnatural hatred to the country of his birth. 
Much as we must regret the situation in which we now find him, 
we can not think that there was any vengeful triumph in it. 

When it became necessary to evacuate Boston, it became also 
necessary to send dispatches to England, informing the govern- 
ment of that necessity. Few officers were anxious to have thJ3 
unpleasant commission intrusted to them, and the commanding 
general was unwilling to part with men who might be serviceable 



COUNT KUMFOKD. 24.°, 

to him and the royal cause. In this emergency he had recourse 
to Major Thompson, to whom he intrusted his dispatches, and 
who immediately sailed for England in the ship that had conveyed 
him from Newport. 

In due time Thompson was introduced to Lord George Ger- 
maine, Secretary of State for the Colonies, and delivered his dis- 
patches. Lord George was struck with the personal appearance 
of Thompson, and, finding him well informed, offered him employ- 
ment in the department over which he presided, probably with 
the view of obtaining exact information concerning the resources 
and temper of the colonies. The otfer was too flattering to be 
rejected by Thompson in his present hapless state, and he closed 
with it without hesitation. No part of a man's experience is use- 
less. Thompson soon found that his business knowledge, picked 
up in the counting-room and store, were of inestimable value in a 
sphere which seldom employed business men. He was able to get 
through a vast amount of work in a very short time, and became 
so eminently useful and reliable, that in less than four years he 
was promoted to the highest place in the department. Thrown 
in this way among the best-informed circles of the country, with 
ample means to maintain his position, he found opportunity once 
more to return to his philosophical pursuits. He became a regu- 
lar attendant at the Royal Society's meetings, and soon afterward 
contributed to their " Transactions." 

When Lord Germaine retired from the administration, he did 
not forget the services of Thompson, but obtained for him a com- 
mission as major in a regiment which had been lately formed, 
composed mostly of American Tories who had sought refuge in 
England, or been employed under English colors in America. In a 
short time he was promoted to the rank of lieutenant colonel. He 
embarked for America, but, we are happy to say, returned when 
there was no longer an occasion to lift his hand against the land of 
his birth. There being no employment for his regiment, he obtain- 
ed leave of absence, and made a tour into Germany, with the inten- 
tion, it is said, of offering his services to the Emperor of Austria. 
On the journey he was fortunate enough to make the acquaintance 
of Prince Maximilian of Deux-Ponts, afterward King of Bavaria, 
who, learning his design to enter the Austrian army, recommend- 
ed him to visit Munich and inquire whether, in the employ of Ba- 
varia, he might not find a quicker and better scope for his talents. 



244 SELF-MADE MEN. 

He gave him a letter of introduction to the Elector, and, armed 
with this, Thompson proceeded to Munich. His serene highness 
received him with favor, and offered him an instant appointment, 
holding out many inducements for him to remain ; but Thomp- 
son seems to have been more strongly inclined toward Austria 
than he at first supposed, and determined, under any circumstan- 
ces, to visit Vienna. In this city he remained some time, re- 
ceiving frequent communications from the Elector urging him to 
return to Munich. At length Thompson consented to do so on 
condition that he could obtain permission of the King of England 
to accept service under a foreign potentate. The permission was 
at once granted, and the fortunate lieutenant colonel was allowed 
to retire on half pay. The English government, to mark its sense 
of the services he had rendered, also conferred on him the honor 
of knighthood. Thus provided with an income for life and a 
title, he returned to Munich toward the close of the year 1784. 
He was at once appointed aid-de-camp and chamberlain to the 
reigning prince. 

Thompson's first exertions for the good of his new prince was 
to regenerate the army, which had, through neglect and abuse, 
sunk to a very low condition. In a short time he succeeded 
in introducing a system of discipline which was at once thor- 
ough and radically effective. Pie then turned his attention to 
the artillery force of the army, and by introducing a new system 
of tactics, and new contrivances for moving the carriages, etc., 
made it the finest corps in Europe. These labors were so suc- 
cessful, and so entirely in accordance with the wishes of the 
Elector, that he at once promoted Thompson to the Council of 
State, and made him also major general in the army. The sci- 
entific men of the electorate honored him also by admitting him 
as a member of the two academies of Munich and Manheim. A 
brief recapitulation of other honors bestowed on him during his 
stay in Germany may not here be out of place. In 1787 he was 
elected a member of the Academy of Sciences at Berlin ; he was 
(in Bavaria) elevated to the rank of commander-in-chief of the 
general staff, minister of war, and superintendent of the police of 
the electorate ; he was for a time chief of the regency that exer- 
cised sovereignty during the absence of the Elector, and was cre- 
ated Count of the Holy Roman Empire by Leopold. At his own 
solicitation, he selected as his title the name of the reeidence of 
his wife, and became Count of Rumford. 



COUNT RUMFORD. 245 

A Ye now turn to Thompson's curious philanthropic and philo- 
sophical career. In Bavaria, at that time, begging was one of the 
principal conditions of life. It was a trade assiduously cultivated 
by a large portion of the population. So eager and pertinacious 
were the beggars, that they followed the citizen into his house, his 
store, his church. It was impossible to shake them off; they had 
gained courage by impunity, and actually looked on their profession 
as a legitimate one. Having made the army a respectable and in- 
dustrious body of men, Thompson now determined to reform all 
the sturdy beggars, and win them to ways of industry. For this 
purpose, he organized a general descent on the mendicant commu- 
nity. New- Year's day was selected for the demonstration — a day 
on which they came out in strong force. Before night every beg- 
gar in the city was under arrest. They were conducted to the 
town hall, where their names were taken down. They were then 
dismissed, with instructions to present themselves the next day 
at the " Military Work-house," a building in the suburbs, which 
Thompson had had fitted up for the purpose, where they would 
find well-heated rooms, a warm dinner, and a supply of work pro- 
vided for them. They were told that they would not be allowed 
to beg in the streets or elsewhere ; that persons were appointed 
who would inquire into their circumstances, and afford them what 
relief they needed. To insure the utter annihilation of the beg- 
ging system, the military guards stationed throughout the city 
were instructed to arrest all mendicants found in the streets, and 
to seek for those who failed to attend at the appointed place. 
The next day not a beggar was to be seen in all Munich ; but 
at the military work-shop a motley crew presented itself, ragged, 
hungry, fierce, and dirty. Great confusion prevailed until the 
various cases were classified. Some were set to work immedi- 
ately ; others were placed under the charge of the physician ; oth- 
ers were exempted from labor, and supplied with the necessary 
means of existence ; but no one was allowed to go out into the 
world again to beg. The great object of all Thompson's meas- 
ures was to elevate the poor wretches in their own opinion. Al- 
though arrested in the first instance, they were not locked up like 
criminals, and were simply dismissed on their promise to return the 
next day. In the work-shop they were not detained if they could 
obtain employment elsewhere. They wore, to be sure, a distinct- 
ive dress, but it was one of honor. According to the rules of the 



24b' SELF-MADE MEN. 

establishment, all new-comers were comj)elled to wear their old 
ragged clothes until, by good conduct, they had earned the privi- 
leged uniform. It became necessary, in the first instance, for the 
purpose of instruction, to separate husband from wife, and parents 
from children ; but, so soon as the parents were found worthy of 
being trusted, the children were placed under their direction, and 
thus the halls of the establishment were speedily occupied with 
family groups. 

In this manner begging was eradicated, and from a wretched 
community of mendicants hundreds of valuable workmen were 
produced. When the establishment commenced operations it had 
twenty-six hundred residents ; in less than five years the number 
had decreased to fourteen hundred. In the same period, the 
finances were elevated from a loss of about twenty-five thousand 
dollars, to a profit, after paying wages to such as had shown them- 
selves worthy, of forty thousand dollars. These praiseworthy 
and successful efforts were properly appreciated by the objects for 
whom they were made. When the inmates of the work-house had 
thrown off the dirt and sloth of their former habits, they began to 
perceive the great good that had been done to them, and to recog- 
nize in Thompson a benefactor sent for their especial deliverance. 
He became the object of the sincerest affection. When he was 
seized with sickness, all the inmates of the work-house went in 
procession to the Cathedral, where, at their request, divine service 
was performed, and public prayers offered for his recovery. Four 
years later, when the news of his being ill at Naples reached Mu- 
nich, they voluntarily set apart an hour each evening to join in 
prayerful supplications for his recovery. It is pleasant to read 
of these things, and to believe they were sincere, so often does it 
happen in the world that those whom we would benefit are the 
first to turn round on us with unjust reproaches. 

Thompson's career in Bavaria was that of a beneficent prince, 
eager alike for the dignity of his country and the happiness of his 
subjects. All his plans were based on broad and comprehensive 
principles, the justice of which only needed illustration on a scale 
of sufficient magnitude to be at once appreciated. We must deny 
ourselves the pleasure of following his career, and will barely men- 
tion that, during the remainder of his stay in Bavaria, he estab- 
lished a military academy at Munich, and conducted it under his 
own immediate auspices for six years. Pie endeavored to improve 



COUNT RUMFORD. 247 

the breed of horses (which at that time was very shaggy and queer), 
for which purpose he imported a number of fine mares and loaned 
them to the farmers. He attempted, in like manner, to improve 
the breed of cattle, and with decided success. In carrying into 
effect these various schemes, he was often met by the interested 
opposition of men who envied his popularity and position. Hav- 
ing the entire confidence of the prince, he was able to beat down 
this factitious opposition, but it added the ingredient of trouble to 
his many labors. He overtasked himself, and his constitution be- 
gan to show signs of decay. In 1794 he obtained leave of absence, 
and visited Italy to recruit his shattered system ; the following- 
year he paid a visit to England. The fame of his career had pre- 
ceded him, and he became popular, especially with committees for 
improving the condition* of the poor, who were constantly appeal- 
ing to him for advice. To gratify them, and render a service to 
the indigent classes, he published the particulars of his system in 
Bavaria. During his stay he enlightened the Londoners on the 
proper way of curing smoky chimneys, and gave them some new 
and correct notions concerning the radiation of heat, by which 
their lire-places were made more comfortable and economical. At 
this time, too, he introduced his cooking-stove, and, according to 
his plans, the first of this now familiar article was set up in 
America (1798). 

In 1796, Thompson accepted an invitation of the Secretary of 
State of Ireland to visit that country, for the purpose of giving 
his advice to various charitable institutions. A philanthropist of 
such a practical turn of mind was not only a rarity, but a blessing. 
In Dublin and other cities he superintended the erection of va- 
rious establishments for benevolent purposes. The now common 
method of heating by steam was first employed by him in a laun- 
dry, where the apparatus heated the irons, warmed the water, 
aired the clothes, and cooked the dinners of the laundresses. 

After his visit to Dublin, Thompson returned suddenly to 
Bavaria, in consequence of the critical position in which that 
country was placed by the war. Standing midway between the 
operating points of Austria and France, it seemed by no means 
improbable that Bavaria would be the field of battle for the 
contending forces. The Elector, alarmed at the state of things, 
was on the point of abandoning his capital when Thompson ar- 
rived in Munich; in deference to the latter, he deferred bis de- 



248 SELF-MADE MEN. 

parture for eight days, and then ran away in spite of all per- 
suasion. Having, however, some kind of respect for Thomp- 
son's courage and discretion, he appointed a Council of Regency, 
at the head of which Thompson was placed. Within a few days 
the Austrian army arrived, but, to its astonishment, found the 
gates of the city shut. Batteries were immediately constructed 
and threats uttered ; but Thompson was firm, and the neutrality 
of the Bavarian capital was maintained. The citizens were de- 
lighted, and the Elector heaped new honors on his favorite when he 
came back, which was after all the danger was over. Thopmson 
remained two years longer in Bavaria ; but, finding that his health 
once more failed him, he concluded to return to England, the 
genial climate of which country had proved so beneficial in his 
previous sickness. As an expression of his esteem, the Elector 
furnished him with credentials as minister plenipotentiary and 
envoy extraordinary near the court of St. James. The intention 
was kindly, but, owing to the laws of England, which will not rec- 
ognize a change of allegiance in an individual, he was not recog- 
nized in his diplomatic capacity, and therefore failed to obtain the 
position the Elector had hoped to secure for him within the ex- 
clusive circle of the court. 

Instead, therefore, of wasting his time in the close and lazy at- 
mosphere of palaces, he devoted himself once more to scientific*, 
pursuits. At this time the Royal Institution was not in exist- 
ence, and the idea of founding it had been but just promulgated. 
Thompson was precisely the man to give practical importance to 
such a scheme. To his exertions and influence England is largely 
indebted for the honor which this institution — made illustrious by 
the names of so many men of genius — has shed on her scientific 
annals. While he was busily engaged in carrying out this project, 
he received intelligence of the death of his old friend and patron, 
the Elector Charles Theodore of Bavaria. His successor was the 
same Maximilian Joseph of Deux-ponts who had originally fur- 
nished him with a letter of introduction to the Bavarian court. 
This prince, having belonged to the opposition, did not view the 
popularity of Thompson with any especial favor. He was easily 
influenced by the representations of the latter's enemies. Thomp- 
son saw, therefore, that any farther residence in Bavaria would 
only tend to angry feeling and discomfort. These views were 
confirmed during a visit which he made after the peace. Al- 



COUNT RUMFOIU). 249 

though received with every politeness and consideration, he soon 
learned that it was not the intention of the administration to 
give him employment. After assisting in the reorganization of 
the Bavarian Academy of Sciences, he bade a final adieu to the 
electorate, and made a tour through Germany, Italy, Switzerland, 
and France. Unfortunately, there is no record of his adventures 
in these countries. It is scarcely probable that a man so widely 
known could have passed from place to place without some kind 
of valuable experience, or without coming in contact with leading 
men of similar views, philanthropic and philosophical, with him- 
self. 

In Paris Thompson found a city where his reputation and sci- 
entific attainments gave him at once a position of importance. 
He appears to have been delighted with it, and with reason. In 
addition to the fascinations of cultivated intercourse, he discovered 
on the borders of the scientific world a lady who was destined to 
become the partner of his joys and sorrows, and the companion 
of his journey down the valley of life. He had lost his first wife 
during his absence in Europe ; Madame Lavoisier was the only 
woman he had met who seemed destined to fill her place in his 
affections. The lady was well to do, and, by virtue of her de- 
ceased husband's great reputation, occupied an elevated position 
in the best circles of Parisian society. A mutual attachment 
sprung up between them, which resulted in an indissoluble union. 
The date of the wedding is not known. In 1804 Thompson wrote 
to his mother to inform her of the event, and saying, "The lady I 
am to espouse is four years younger than myself, and is of a most 
amiable and respectable character." Immediately after his mar- 
riage he took up his residence at madame's country-seat at Au- 
teuil, where he was destined to pass the remainder of his days. 

We turn now to the record of his philosophical investigations and 
discoveries. Unfortunately, many of Thompson's papers (which 
would doubtless have thrown considerable light on these subjects) 
were stolen from him during a visit to London. " On my return 
to England," he says, "from Germany in October, 1795, after an 
absence of eleven years, I was stopped in my post-chaise, in St. 
Paul's Church-yard in London, at six o'clock in the evening, and 
robbed of a trunk which was behind my carriage, containing all 
my private papers, and my original notes and observations on 
philosophical subjects. By this cruel accident I have been de-i 

L 2 



250 SELF-MADE MEN. 

prived of the fruits of the labors of my whole life, and have lost 
all that I held most valuable. This most severe blow has left an 
impression on my mind which I feel that nothing will ever be 
able entirely to remove.' ' 

It will be remembered that Thompson's first experiment with 
gunpowder was of a kind to impress the force of that combustible 
on his mind in an extremely unpleasant manner. To this acci- 
dent we may undoubtedly attribute his subsequent curiosity on 
the subject. From an early day down to the period of his mili- 
tary career in Bavaria, he was engaged in a series of philosophical 
investigations, having in view the projectile force of gunpowder, 
and how to economize it. One of his first papers, published in 
the " Transactions of the Royal Society," was on this subject, and 
the conclusions he arrived at were highly important to artillery- 
men, miners, and others who use gunpowder as a means of ob- 
taining quick and remarkable force. These conclusions were new, 
and immediately became the basis of practical calculations which 
are acted upon to the present day. 

A series of experiments were also performed by him in relation 
to the capabilities of various fabrics to absorb moisture, especially 
with regard to clothing. He demonstrated, what experience had 
already taught, that woolen goods were by far the most desirable 
for persons exposed to damp climates, or, when used next to the 
skin, for persons who were subject to profuse perspiration from 
heat. Experiments on light (a favorite subject with all philoso- 
phers, but treated practically by Thompson) followed. His in- 
vestigations were confined to, 1. The relative quantities of light 
given by oil and tallow in lamps and candles ; and, 2. The com- 
parative cost of the substances giving equal quantities of light. 
In the course of these experiments he obtained many curious re- 
sults then unknown to science, rendered all the more valuable by 
their adaptation to the ordinary purposes of life. He showed 
that light is not sensibly diminished by passing through moderate 
distances in the air ; he determined the quantities of light lost in 
passing through plates of glass, and by reflection from mirrors ; 
and determined the relative quantities of different substances con- 
sumed in the production of a certain quantity of light. The re- 
sult of his experiments was that he considered the Argand lamp 
the most economical. While conducting these experiments he 
constructed a lamp of a novel kind, the light from which was so 



COUNT RUMFORD, 251 

intense that the workman who illuminated it for the first time 
could not find his way home at night, in consequence of the blind- 
ness produced by its extreme brilliancy. This lamp has since be- 
come famous, but bears the name of Bude instead of Thompson, 
who was its inventor. Proceeding farther in his experiments, he 
examined the action of light in reducing the oxides of silver and 
gold, phenomena to which daguerreotypists are entirely indebted 
for their art. He also discovered that these metals, when in so- 
lution, may be reduced by charcoal, ether, the essential oils, and 
gum. It is barely probable that the nature of these experiments 
and their value will be appreciated by the general reader, but they 
were sufficient at the time to raise Thompson's name to the high- 
est pinnacle of scientific fame. We have already referred to his 
experiments on the subject of heat, first instituted with a view to 
practical utility. Subsequently he continued them on philosoph- 
ical principles, and obtained explanations of " the more import- 
ant and extensive operations of nature upon the surface of the 
globe, and in some cases, as in that of the submarine polar cur- 
rents, predicted what fifty years of subsequent observation have 
hardly yet exhibited in its full extent." 

To the prosecution of his various occupations Thompson brought 
to bear a well-disciplined and perfectly methodical mind. He had 
a time for every thing, and was, in consequence, never hurried. 
So confirmed was he in habits of industry and method, that it was 
impossible to tear him from his accustomed task. His death took 
place on the 21st of August, 1814, at his villa in Auteuil, in the 
sixty-second year of his age. It was occasioned by a fever, and 
accelerated by his habits of method, which would not allow him, 
on this occasion, to desert his favorite occupations for the quiet 
and regimen of the sick-chamber. 

By marriage and otherwise he was the possessor of an ample 
fortune, and before and after his death made several public dis- 
positions of his money. He instituted prizes, liberally endowed, 
to be adjudged by the Eoyal Society of London and the American 
Academy of Sciences, for the most important discoveries of which 
light and heat should be the subject ; he bequeathed an annual 
sum of one thousand dollars, together with the reversion of other 
property, to Harvard University, for the purpose of founding a 
professorship to teach " the utility of the physical and mathemat- 
ical sciences, for the improvement of the useful arts, and for the 



252 SELF-MADE MEN. 

extension of the industry, prosperity, happiness and well-being of 
society." Although Thompson proved by these liberal bequests 
that he remembered and was attached to his native country, he 
never saw it from the time of his first departure. At one time 
he was on the eve of returning, but circumstances occurred which 
prevented his fulfilling the intention. He had one daughter by 
his first wife, who visited him in England. 

In the immediate vicinity of Munich is a beautiful ornamental 
park, with artificial lakes and mountains, and a great variety of 
splendid trees and flowers. It is a place of recreation, and free 
to the public, who roam there, and enjoy the fresh breeze and the 
fine scenery. Thompson caused this park to be laid out and ded- 
icated in the way it is. The people were so thankful for the 
boon that they caused a monument to be erected in commemora- 
tion of Thompson's services in securing it. It has two principal 
fronts opposite to each other, ornamented with basso-relievos and 
inscriptions. On one side is an inscription in the German lan- 
guage, of which the following is a literal translation : 

" Stay, Wanderer. 

At the creative flat of Charles Theodore, 

Rumford, the friend of Mankind, 

By Genius, Taste, and Love inspired. 

Changed this once desert place 

Into Avhat thou now beholdest." 

On the opposite side of the monument there is a bust of Count 
Rumford, and the inscription : 

" To him 

Who rooted out the greatest of Public Evil 1 -, 

Idleness and Mendacity, 

Relieved and instructed the Poor, 

And founded many Institution?; 

For the education of our youth. 

Go, Wanderer, 

And strive to equal him 

In genius and activity, 

And us 

In gratitude." 



THOMAS POSEY. 

Thomas Posey, whose life furnishes us with another instance 
of the undeviating integrity and enduring patriotism of the men 
who struggled for liberty in our Revolution and gained it, was 
born on the banks of the Potomac, in Virginia, on the 9th of July, 
1750. He was in humble circumstances, and received but a 
scanty education. When he was nineteen years of age he re- 
moved to the western part of Virginia, near the frontiers, where 
he expected to engage in some profitable employment. A few 
years after his removal to this locality the country became in- 
volved in a general war with the Indians. In 1774, an expedi- 
tion was undertaken against them by the British colonial govern- 
or, Lord Dunmore, and General Andrew Lewis. Mr. Posey re- 
ceived an appointment in the quarter-master's department, and 
marched with General Lewis's division of the army. The course 
of the army lay through a primitive wilderness, the fastnesses of 
which were yet unbroken by the foot of man. Difficulties of the 
most perplexing character were constantly occurring to obstruct 
the horses, baggage, munitions, and provisions which were under 
Posey's charge, but the coolness, perseverance, and industry which 
he displayed enabled him to reach the place of rendezvous in safe- 
ty. Mr. Hall justly remarks that there was more merit and brill- 
iancy in such an achievement than in the daring and the triumph 
of a successful battle, for the performance required more labor, 
more patient courage, more active patriotism than is usually called 
forth by the excitement of a battle. 

On the 10th of October the Indians made their appearance in 
great force, and an obstinate and bloody engagement immediately 
ensued (Point Pleasant). They were led by the famous chief 
Corn-stalk, a chief who, unlike most of his contemporaries, had 
no fear of open warfare, and attacked Lewis's position with the 
skill of an experienced general. The battle lasted the entire day, 
and was at last decided in favor of the Virginians, who lost sev- 
enty-five men killed, and one hundred and forty wounded. The 
Indian loss was of course much jrreatcr, but, in accordance with 



254 SELF-MADE MEN. 

their invariable custom, they carried off their dead, and left it im- 
possible to discover what loss they had sustained. Shortly after 
this engagement, Lord Dunmore succeeded in effecting a treaty 
of peace with the Indians. 

The battle of Point Pleasant was. the first engagement in which 
Posey took part, although it is probable that at various times he 
had a hand in the frontier skirmishes which were incessantly 
waged between the settlers and the savages. He was a minute 
observer of all the operations of battle, and his imagination, being 
eminently of a military order, was fired with hot excitement. It 
is not remarkable, therefore, that when the war of Independence 
broke out, he was one of the first to enroll his name on the scroll 
of patriotism. At an early day he was appointed a captain in 
the regular service, and raised a company, which was incorpora- 
ted with the seventh Virginia regiment, and afterward put upon 
the Continental establishment. The seventh regiment distin- 
guished itself in a campaign against Lord Dunmore, and was sub- 
sequently ordered to join the army under the immediate command 
of General Washington. In the spring of 1777 it reached head- 
quarters at Middlebrook, New Jersey — a large force of the ene- 
my then lying at New Brunswick, a few miles distant, under the 
command of Lord Cornwallis. About this time General Wash- 
ington authorized the formation of a picked rifle regiment, to be 
commanded by Colonel Daniel Morgan. The latter distinguish- 
ed officer availed himself of the opportunity placed in his hand to 
select from all the army none but the best men. Among others, 
his choice fell upon Posey, who was at once honored with a cap- 
taincy. In this regiment, surrounded by master-spirits who look- 
ed on danger as their comrade, Posey distinguished himself equal- 
ly with his gallant companions. It would be unfair to say more, 
for every man in that regiment was a patriot. One of the prin- 
cipal uses of a rifle corps is to harass an enemy rather than fight 
him ; to engage the picket-guards, cut off the supplies, and sur- 
prise detached parties. Detected in such dangerous tactics, the 
rifleman receives no quarter, and, indeed, expects none ; but the 
great importance of the service renders it vitally important to 
have none but the most reliable men in the corps. Morgan's 
regiment was essentially the " crack" one of the day, and by the 
daring rapidity of its movements performed inestimable service 
in the American cause. 






THOMAS POSEY: 255 

In the spring of 1778, Colonel Morgan being on furlough, Lieu- 
tenant Colonel Butler having joined his regiment, and Major Mor- 
ris having been killed, Captain Posey succeeded to the command 
of the rifle corps, now much reduced by the many actions in which 
it had taken part, and the hardships and privations it had endured. 
He continued to perform active duties until the British evacuated 
Philadelphia, when his detachment joined the army. Posey was 
promoted to the rank of major, and in 1779 was intrusted with 
the eleventh Virginia regiment of infantry, from which he was 
shortly after transferred to the command of a battalion, compos- 
ing part of Febiger's regiment, under the orders of General Wayne. 
Under this illustrious commander he distinguished himself at the 
assault on Stony Point (loth July, 1779}, and was the first to 
enter the main work of the enemy. Marshall, in his history, 
says that " Colonel Fleury was the first to enter the fort and 
strike the British standard. Major Posey mounted the works at 
the same instant, and was the first to give the watchword, 'The 
fort is ours.'' " In 1780, Posey was employed in the recruiting 
service, but assisted at the siege of Yorktown, where once more 
he witnessed the triumph of American arms. He returned to his 
recruiting station and organized a regiment, of which he obtained 
the command, having already been promoted to the rank of lieu- 
tenant colonel. With this regiment he repaired to Georgetown 
(1781-2), and served under General Wayne until the evacuation 
of Savannah by the British. When this event took place, Wayne, 
with his troops, was ordered to join General Greene in South Car- 
olina. Charleston was evacuated a few months afterward, and 
Posey was ordered, with his battalion of light infantry, to follow 
the enemy as -they marched out. This was his last employment 
in the Revolutionary war, as it was, indeed, the last occasion for 
his services. During the whole period in which the country was 
struggling for its liberties, Posey was at his post, ever foremost in 
the time of danger ; ever prepared for the privations, disappoint- 
ments, and misfortunes of that time which truly "tried men's 
souls." It is nothing for a man to be a patriot now. He has a 
country and a nationality to fight for ; but in those times, a man, 
if he failed, was a rebel, and suffered an ignominious death, which, 
to a vast number of recruits, did not carry pity with it. 

After the peace, Colonel Posey (who had lost his first wife) was 
married again (1783) to Mrs. Thornton, a young widow of con- 



•256 ' SELF-MADE MEN. 

siderable beauty and accomplishment, and immediately afterward 
settled in Spottsylvania county, Virginia. A family of ten chil- 
dren were the fruit of this marriage. In 1785 he was appointed 
captain of militia, and in the following year county lieutenant. 
He fulfilled the arduous duties of the latter appointment until 
1793, when once more he entered, under the banner of General 
Wayne, as brigadier general, on a decisive campaign against the 
Indians. The expedition was successful, and much of its honor 
was reflected on Posey. 

On quitting the regular service he . settled in Kentucky, where 
his military reputation had preceded him, and paved the way to 
new honors. He was immediately elected to the Senate of the 
State, and was speaker of that body for four years, by virtue of 
his appointment of lieutenant governor. In 1809, apprehensions 
of war with England induced the Congress of the United States 
to provide for the contingency by raising an army of one hundred 
thousand men. The quota of Kentucky was five thousand men, 
and this large number was raised with the greatest possible ease. 
The command was intrusted to General Posey, with the rank of 
major general. It was an honor that any man might be proud 
of, for the troops were selected from the flower of the state, and 
represented some of the best and most patriotic families. The 
call, however, was premature ; and, although Posey set about his 
duties with the celerity and discipline of earlier days, his exer- 
tions were, for the moment, of no avail. The army was dis- 
banded. Governor Scott, of Kentucky, complimented Posey on 
the occasion. " While I felicitate my fellow-citizens on the pros- 
pect of our affairs," says that gentleman, " which has led to this 
event, permit me particularly to assure you that I entertain a 
high sense of the promptitude and zeal with which you undertook 
to discharge the duties of commander-in-chief of this corps. You 
have set an example of military spirit, at the expense of private 
convenience, which I hope ever to see imitated by the militia cf 
this state, when the interest of their country is at stake. I beg 
leave to renew to you my sentiments of regard, and am sincerely 
your friend and obedient servant." 

The purchase of Louisiana from the French opened a new field 
of enterprise for the South, and among those who determined to 
settle there was General Posey. Although sixty years of age, 
he made an exploration into the interior, and finally purchased 



THOMAS POSEY, 257 

kind in Attakapas, and removed thither with part of his family. 
When, in 1812, hostilities were about to commence with Great 
Britain, he gave a fresh illustration of his patriotism by raising 
a volunteer company at Baton Rouge, of which he condescended 
to accept the captaincy. In the same year General Posey was 
elected senator in the Congress of the United States. He repair- 
ed to Washington, and served there until March, 1813, when he 
was appointed governor and commander-in-chief of the Territory 
of Indiana. This territory was one of the most exposed in the 
country ; infested by hostile Indians, and threatened by the Brit- 
ish. Its management required military firmness and experience, 
which were certainly secured in the appointment of General Posey. 
He fulfilled the duties of his responsible office until 1816, when 
the territory became a state. 

On* relinquishing the government of Indiana, General Posey 
was appointed Agent for Indian Affairs, the important duties of 
which office he continued to perform to the day of his death. It 
was the last position in which he was permitted to serve his coun- 
try. On the 19th of March, 1818, General Posey departed this 
life, after a violent attack of typhus fever. The event took place 
at Shawneetown, Illinois, and was occasioned by a severe cold, 
which terminated fatally in the way we have mentioned at the 
end of eight days. The consolations of religion had prepared his 
spirit for the final change, and when the moment arrived he was 
ready. Among his papers were found (in his own handwriting) 
a brief sketch of his life, a letter of advice to his children and 
grandchildren, and a letter to his wife, to be delivered after his 
death. 

"In the prime of his life," says Mr. Hall, to whom we are in- 
debted for some of the facts in this sketch, " General Posey was 
remarkable for his personal appearance ; tall, athletic, and finely 
formed, with singularly handsome features, his exterior was very 
prepossessing. His figure was dignified and graceful, and in his 
manners the bearing of the soldier was harmoniously blended with 
the ease of the refined gentleman." 




ISEAEL -PUTNAM. 

The rich and glorious military history of America is studded 
with bright names gathered from the dark masses of the time — 
men who abandoned their humble homes for the tented field, and 
after a while returned to their homesteads clothed in victory, amid 
rejoicings and patriotic ovations. Many of these names, of the 
richer sort too, belong of right to the biography of self-made men. 
Accident may make a man famous, but it does not make him 
patriotic. This he owes to a native principle, the product of the 
soil to which he belongs, and his own large and generous nature. 
To be more than thousands of his neighbors, to be illustrious in 
the annals of his country, he must call into play all the self-de- 
nial, all the firmness, all the clear-visioned determination of the 
self-made. Nothing in the world is more natural than patriotism, 
but nothing in the world is more difficult than being a patriot. 

We all know something of Israel Putnam. The romantic sto- 
ry of his life is one of the earliest that attaches us to our dar- 
ing history, and impresses it vividly on our mind. He was born 
at Salem, in Massachusetts, on the 7th of January, 1718, his fa- 






ISRAEL PUTNAM. 259 

ther being a farmer. Education hi those days was not, as now, 
within the easy grasp of the aspiring. People in moderate cir- 
cumstances were unable to command more than the scantiest 
smattering of knowledge. Life was physical rather than intel- 
lectual ; men looked to their hands more than their heads. Young 
Israel learned a few English branches, and then turned his atten- 
tion to farming. He was blessed with a good constitution, and 
strengthened it by a hearty participation in all the manly sports 
of the time. When only twelve years of age he gave an indica- 
tion of that strength and courage which were his distinguishing 
characteristics later in life. It happened that he went to the city 
of Boston on a visit, and, while quietly trudging through the 
streets with his hands in his pockets and his eyes wide open, at- 
tracted the attention of an impudent city boy, much his superior 
in age* and size. This youth thought it would be capital fun to 
ridicule the rustic appearance and gait of Israel, and for this pur- 
pose followed him through the streets. Israel submitted to his 
sneers for a short time, and then turned on his tormentor. In a 
very short time he gave him a complete drubbing. 

In the twenty-first year of his age Israel was united in mar- 
riage to a Miss Pope, of Salem, and immediately afterward re- 
moved to Pomfret, in Connecticut, where he purchased a consid- 
erable tract of land, and applied himself closely to cultivation. 
In the enjoyment of home comfort, and in the pursuit of an hon- 
est and healthy independence, there is but little in his life during 
this period which need be recalled in a biography. One little 
story, however, must be preserved. In those days the neighbor- 
hood of Pomfret was greatly infested by wolves. So great were 
their depredations, that, in a single night, Putnam lost no fewer 
than twenty sheep and goats, besides having a number of lambs 
wounded. All sorts of possible means were employed to destroy 
these voracious robbers, and generally with success ; but there 
was an old she-wolf who defied all the ingenuity of the farm- 
ers. She paid her visits every night to the sheepfold, and, after 
partaking of a hearty supper, retired to her den in a neighbor- 
ing cavern. On one occasion she had been caught in a trap, 
and had left a part of her foot behind in order to effect her es- 
cape. The mark of the injured foot could be traced after her noc- 
turnal visits, especially if there had been a slight fall of snow, so 
that every one knew it was this defiant old lady that caused so 



260 SELF-MADE MEN. 

much mischief every night, and perhaps initiated younger and 
more timid depredators. Putnam and a few of his neighbors 
determined to pursue the robber. Without much difficulty they 
discovered her den. Dogs were sent in, but they soon came 
forth wounded and howling ; no amount of persuasion could in- 
duce them to go in again. Straw and brimstone were lighted 
at the mouth of the cave, but the stifling fumes had no effect on 
the hearty constitution of the old she-wolf. After continuing 
their efforts until late at night, they were about abandoning their 
game, when Putnam proposed that his negro man should descend 
into the cavern and shoot the wolf. All things considered, it was 
not at all remarkable that the negro man declined the honor ; it 
is more remarkable that Putnam should have thought it neces- 
sary to reproach him with cowardice. Perfectly resolved not to 
be foiled, Putnam now undertook the dangerous task, against the 
wish of his friends and neighbors, who remembered how the dogs 
had been used, and could scarcely expect a better fate for Israel. 
Stripping off his coat and waistcoat, and placing a rope round his 
body, so that he might be drawn back at a concerted signal, he 
entered the cavern head foremost, holding in his hand a torch of 
lighted birch bark. 

The aperture of the den, on the east side of a very high ledge 
of rocks, was about two feet square ; thence it descended oblique- 
ly fifteen feet, and, running horizontally about ten more, gradually 
ascended sixteen feet, toward its termination. The sides of the 
cavern were of smooth solid rocks, apparently divided by some 
violent convulsion of nature. Its floor and top were also of stone, 
and when covered with ice in winter, its entrance was extremely 
slippery. In no place was it three feet wide, or high enough for 
a man to stand upright. Through this long and perilous cavern 
Putnam groped his way, creeping cautiously on all fours, and 
waving his torch, until he was arrested by a sullen and fierce 
growl. Peering into the darkness, he detected the glaring eye- 
balls of the wolf, flashing defiance on him from the extreme end 
of the den. Having thus explored the hunting-ground, he gave 
the signal, and was dragged out so precipitately by his friends 
(who, hearing the growl, were quite certain that something very 
dreadful had happened) that his clothes were torn to rags, and his 
body sadly lacerated. Undeterred by this little accident, he pro- 
ceeded to load his musket with nine buck-shot, and then for the 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 261 

second time entered the cave. He approached the animal nearer 
than before, in spite of her fierce and threatening aspect ; still 
nearer and nearer he crept up to her, until she seemed in the 
very act of springing ; then, with a steady hand and true eye, he 
discharged the musket full at her head. Stunned by the reper- 
cussion, and almost suffocated by the smoke, he was again drawn 
forth. He was too anxious to wait long for the result. In a few 
moments he descended into the cave for the third time, seized the 
wolf by the mane, and dragged her out. To the delight and ex- 
ultation of every one, she was quite dead. 

Putnam was thirty-seven years of age when the war which 
preceded the American Eevolution broke out between France and 
England. As a farmer, he had distinguished himself by great in- 
dustry and prudence, resulting necessarily in easy circumstances ; 
it was now that he appeared for the first time on the stage of 
public life. In 1755 he was appointed captain of a company in 
Lyman's regiment of provincials, which were among the first 
troops raised in Connecticut on that occasion. With Major 
Eogers and his company Putnam traversed the wilderness, to 
gain information, reconnoitre the enemy's line, capture straggling 
parties, cut off supplies, and generally do all the mischief in their 
power. Their immediate object was to obtain a correct knowl- 
edge of the situation and condition of the fortifications at Crown 
Point. A delicate task of this kind required more than mere 
bravery ; it demanded prudence and coolness. Putnam soon 
perceived that it was impossible to approach the fortifications 
with his company without great danger of detection by strag- 
glers from the garrison. He proposed, therefore, that he and 
Eogers should go alone, leaving their troops in some safe shelter 
until their return. During the evening, they advanced so near 
the fort that they were able to gain all the information their 
general needed. Once they were nearly detected ; a French- 
man caught hold of Eogers, and, after vainly trying to stab him, 
shouted out to the guard for assistance. Putnam rushed to the 
rescue of his companion, and, with a single blow from the butt- 
end of his musket, silenced his captor forever. They made their 
escape before the guard came up. It was probably owing to the 
successful issue of this reconnoitring party that Putnam, assisted 
by Lieutenant Durkee, was intrusted with a similar delicate op- 
eration. They were to reconnoitre the enemy's camp at the 



262 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Ovens, near Ticonderoga. The French were lodged round their 
iires, instead of the fires being placed round the men, as in the 
English camp ; their sentinels were, consequently, secreted in the 
surrounding darkness. Ignorant of this disposition, Putnam and 
the lieutenant crept cautiously on their hands and knees toward 
the camp, when, to their great surprise, they found themselves 
entirely encircled by the enemy. They were quickly observed 
and fired upon, Lieutenant Durkee receiving a slight wound. In 
their hurry to escape, Putnam fell into a clay-pit, and Durkee 
followed. Imagining that the latter was an enemy, Putnam had 
raised his arm to stab him, when he recognized Durkee's voice. 
Springing from the pit with fresh activity, they made good their 
retreat, followed by a perfect storm of bullets. When Putnam 
loosened his canteen to give a little rum to his wounded compan- 
ion, he was astonished to find that it had been perforated with 
bullets, and all the treasured liquor gone. His blanket, too, was 
pierced with fourteen holes, so that he had had even a narrower 
escape than with the wolf. In this and similar hazardous under- 
takings he continued to be employed, always displaying undaunt- 
ed bravery, and great judgment and presence of mind. The rep- 
utation which he gained by these exploits won for him the appre- 
ciation of the Provincial Legislature of Connecticut, who, as a rec- 
ognition of his merits, promoted him to the rank of major in 1757. 
At the siege of Fort William Llenry, Putnam distinguished 
himself by obtaining much valuable information concerning the 
movements of the enemy, which, had it been acted on with prompt- 
ness and courage, would have averted the sad fate of that fort, and 
the subsequent massacre by the Indians, which has made it odious. 
Putnam reached the scene of carnage just as the rear guard of the 
French were embarking on the lake. The bodies of brutally- 
murdered human beings lay around him in every direction ; hund- 
reds of women and of children were heaped on the smouldering 
ruins of the barracks and fort. We can imagine the emotions of 
Putnam as he gazed on the scene, knowing, as he did, that if the 
general had but possessed an atom of his courage, all might have 
been averted. In view of this, posterity has forgiven him a dis- 
obedience to orders, which certainly occurred soon after. Putnam, 
with his Kangers, were stationed on a little island in Lake George, 
and intelligence was brought that a fatigue party, under Captain 
Little, was in danger of utter destruction by the French and In- 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 263 

dians. Without a moment's hesitation, they dashed into the wa- 
ter and rushed to the rescue. As they passed the fort, the gen- 
eral peremptorily ordered them back to quarters. Putnam was 
seized with sudden deafness, and did not hear the order until after 
Captain Little's party had been rescued from the danger which 
threatened it. Disobedience to orders in the army is an awful 
crime, but, in consideration of the service rendered, no court-mar- 
tial was held on the major. 

There are so many kinds of bravery, that it not unfrequently 
happens that a perfectly courageous man may display weakness 
on some one point. He may be afraid of having a tooth pulled, 
or of crossing a stream in the dark, or of going up to the top of 
a high ladder. One of the most natural fears, even among the 
bravest of the brave, is the fear of fire. In 1757, the barracks 
of Fort Edward took fire, and would have extended to the mag- 
azine, which was only twelve feet distant, and contained 300 bar- 
rels of gunpowder, had it not been for Putnam's individual per- 
severance, bravery, and coolness. He took his post on the roof 
of the barracks, and threw water on the flames until roasted 
from his position. Colonel Haviland, who had command of the 
fort, urged him to desist from his perilous efforts, but he begged 
permission to remain and continue his labors. He was now 
standing between the magazine and the flames, the external 
planks of the former frequently taking fire. A moment's delay 
in extinguishing the flame, wherever it appeared, would have 
resulted in instant destruction. Every one knew this ; but sucli 
was the force of good example, that not a man would desert 
his post at the bucket-line ; even the colonel expressed a desire 
that they might all be blown up together. At length the fire 
was happily extinguished. Putnam had labored at it for nearly 
two hours ; his face, his breast, his arms were terribly blistered, 
and when he drew off the mittens on his hands the flesh came 
away too, and left all the nerves exposed. It was many weeks 
before he was able to go out, after this heroic display of stoical 
courage. 

During the reverses of Abercrombie at Ticonderoga, Putnam 
performed good service, but was, of course, unable to divert the 
unfortunate tendency of events. The weak point of the campaign 
was that green English officers, who knew nothing whatever of 
the Indian element in warfare, and were otherwise ignorant of 



264 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the local precautions necessary to insure safety to an army — that 
these fine-feathered gentlemen were placed in command, not only 
of the European troops, which they might understand, but also 
of the American auxiliaries, which they could not. Had more 
reliance been placed on shrewd, cool officers like Putnam, the dis- 
asters would certainly have been fewer. We have no intention 
of following the events of this period, and shall therefore merely 
select those in which our hero was mainly interested. 

One day, while Putnam, with five men, was lying in a boat near 
the Rapids by Fort Miller, he received a sudden warning that 
the Indians were upon him. Before he had time to escape, the 
savages fired upon the little party, and killed one of its number. 
There seemed scarcely a hope of retreat. On either side were the 
Indians, in front the Rapids, and thus what seemed to be certain 
death in every direction. Without a moment's hesitation, Put- 
nam preferred risking the Rapids. Seizing the helm, he steered 
straight into the vortex of the foaming waters. The boat was 
whirled round like a chip on the surface of a whirlpool, but his 
steady hand kept it in the channel, and carried it past all impedi- 
ments, until, like an arrow, it darted into the tranquil waters be- 
low. It is said that the Indians were so overcome by this exhibi- 
tion of cool skill that they looked on it as something supernatural, 
and conceived it would be an affront to the Great Spirit to kill 
this favored mortal with powder and ball. 

Up to this time we have had nothing but good luck to record 
of Major Putnam. On one of his reconnoitring expeditions, how- 
ever, he was ambuscaded, and, after a fierce struggle, captured. 
While the two parties were still hotly contesting the ground, he 
was tied to a tree, and exposed to the cross-fire of friends and foes. 
At length he was untied by his captors, stripped of his clothing, 
laden with the packs of the wounded, tightly pinioned, and in 
this sad plight forced to march many miles, in the midst of tri- 
umphant enemies, to Ticonderoga, where he was examined by the 
French commander-in-chief, the Marquis of Montcalm. He was 
afterward removed to Montreal, and treated with great humanity 
and indulgence. Here, through the intercession of Colonel Schuy- 
ler, he soon obtained his release, in an exchange of prisoners which 
took place between the two armies. 

In 1760 the English triumphs in Canada were almost perfect- 
ed. Montreal was the only important post remaining in the 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 265 

hands of the French. To reduce this, General Murray was or- 
dered to ascend the River St. Lawrence ; Colonel Haviland, with 
the second corps, was directed to penetrate by the Isle au Noix ; 
while 10,000 men under Amherst were to pass up the Mohawk, 
traverse Lake Ontario, and, by descending the St. Lawrence, unite 
with the other two divisions. To this latter corps was Putnam 
attached. In falling down the river, they came upon an unex- 
pected obstruction in the shape of two armed vessels, and farther 
progress was for the moment impossible. Putnam was the first 
to volunteer to clear the way. With a thousand men and fifty 
boats he undertook to carry the vessels by boarding. At the 
appointed moment the flotilla started on its way. The victory, 
however, was bloodless. Dismayed by the force brought against 
them, the crews of the armed vessels compelled their command- 
ers to haul down the colors. The next point of attack was the 
fort of Oswegatchie, situated on an island, and defended by a high 
abatis of black ash, projecting every where over the Avater. A 
mode of attack was devised by Putnam, and immediately put in 
operation. Each boat was surrounded with fascines, musket- 
proof, and a board, twenty feet long, fixed in the manner of a 
half draw-bridge, which was to be dropped on the pointed bush. 
The signal was given for the attack, but the sight of the strange 
machinery disconcerted the besieged, and they, like their marine 
compatriots, surrendered without a blow. 

In the rupture between Spain and Great Britain in 1762, a 
formidable expedition against Havana was committed to the 
charge of Lord Albemarle. One of the contingents was a Con- 
necticut regiment, one thousand strong, under the command of 
Putnam. The transports arrived in safety off the Queen of the 
Antilles, but a storm arose, and Putnam and five hundred of his 
party were wrecked upon a dangerous reef of rocks. By much 
industry and fatigue they reached the main land, where they made 
a fortified camp, and remained unmolested. Their presence was 
of infinite service in the subsequent reduction of Havana. 

The general peace in Europe of 1763 put an end to these large 
struggles, but the Indians in America were still hostile. Put- 
nam's great experience made him a very desirable officer against 
this savage foe, and, with the rank of colonel, he proceeded to the 
West, under General Bradstreet's command, and remained until 
the Indians had been brought to a state of subjection. Putnam's 

M 



266 SELF-MADE MEN. 

military career seemed now at an end. He had served his coun- 
try gallantly and faithfully for ten years, and, laying his honors 
meekly on the national altar, returned to his homestead, and once 
more peacefully followed the plow. 

The obnoxious Stamp Act was Avarmly opposed by Putnam. 
He was one of the most active in preventing the circulation of 
the objectionable paper. In 1766 the act was ungraciously re- 
pealed, and Putnam once more resumed his agricultural labors ; 
but the agitation which had been provoked by the folly of the En- 
glish government was not destined to die ingloriously. It was 
perfectly understood that, although the government had abandon- 
ed its position from outside pressure, it did not surrender what it 
conceived to be a right. These matters were warmly discussed 
in the various states, and still more hotly in the principal cities. 
Putnam made frequent visits to Boston, and was known as one 
in whom perfect confidence might be placed when the hour of trial 
should arrive. On the 19th of April, 1775, the news of the bat- 
tle of Lexington was carried to Putnam as he was laboring in the 
field. He left his plow standing in the furrow, threw himself 
across one of the team, and, without a moment's delay, hurried 
to the scene of action, without even waiting to change his clothes. 
Two days later he attended a council of war at Cambridge, and 
throughout the struggle which now commenced, took an active 
command. At Bunker Hill the coolness and intrepidity of his 
action contributed in a large measure to the glory of the Ameri- 
can cause. It is supposed, and with every show of reason, that 
he had entire command of the forces on this occasion. 

The incidents of our glorious struggle have been so often re- 
hearsed, and belong so essentially to history, that in a biography of 
this brief kind it would scarcely be desirable to repeat them. The 
great hero was Washington, and whom he honored we honor. 
From the first Putnam secured the respect and confidence of this 
great man, and was frequently complimented in General Orders. 
Not only did he bring invincible courage and patriotism to the 
cause of his country, but, what was almost of equal importance in 
those dark days, he possessed rare tact — the faculty of making insuf- 
ficient means abundantly satisfactory. An illustration will suffice. 
Captain Macpherson, a Scotch officer of the seventeenth British 
regiment, had received, in the battle of Princeton, a severe wound, 
which every one thought would prove fatal. Putnam visited the 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 267 

wounded prisoner, procured surgical assistance, administered to 
his comforts, and solaced him in the apparent hour of death. Con- 
trary to every prognostication, the captain recovered ; but, prior 
to this, in the darkest hour of his suffering, he made a request to 
Putnam that a friend in the British army might be permitted to 
come and aid him in the preparation of his will. The general was 
involved in great perplexity. On the one hand, he was charita- 
bly anxious to gratify the dying prisoner ; on the other, he was 
very unwilling that an officer from the enemy's camp should spy 
out his own weakness. His presence of mind and natural shrewd- 
ness helped him out of the difficulty in an extremely amusing way. 
A flag of truce was dispatched, with orders not to return with the 
captain's friend until after dark. " By the time of his arrival 
lights were displayed in all the apartments of the College Hall, 
and in all the vacant houses in the town ; and the army, which 
then consisted of fifty effective men, were marched about with re- 
markable celerity, sometimes in close column, and sometimes in 
detachments, with unusual pomp and circumstance, around the 
quarters of the captain. It was subsequently ascertained, as we 
are assured by Colonel Humphreys, that the force of Putnam was 
computed by the framer of the will, on his return to the British 
camp, to consist, on the lowest estimate, of five thousand men." 
It is in emergencies of this kind that the native genius of a man 
displays itself. Decision and firmness of character were ever 
manifest in all that Putnam undertook to perform. We will give 
an instance where these qualities were displayed in a tragic man- 
ner. Edmund Palmer, a lieutenant in a Tory regiment, had been 
discovered in the American camp. To avert the fate of a spy, 
the commander of the British forces sent a flag of truce to Put- 
nam, claiming the prisoner as a British officer, and intimating 
that his execution would be attended with serious consequences. 
Putnam returned the flag with the following characteristic and 
perfectly dramatic note : 

" Head-quarters, 7th August, 1777. 

" Edmund Palmer, an officer in the enemy's service, was taken 
as a spy lurking within our lines ; he has been tried as a spy, 
condemned as a spy, and shall be executed as a spy, and the flag 
is ordered to depart immediately. 

"Israel Putnam. 

"P.S. — lie lias been accordingly executed." 



268 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



The only reverse which Putnam ever met with, in his singu- 
larly eventful life, was at Fort Montgomery, which, owing to in- 
sufficient support, he was compelled to abandon to the enemy. 
The subsequent movements were not in accordance with the or- 
ders of the commander-in-chief, and Washington consequently 
expressed some dissatisfaction with Putnam. A Congressional 
inquiry was made into the matter, and, in deference to public 
clamor, he was, for a time, superseded in his command. This, 
however, did not dampen his ardor. He returned to Connecti- 
cut, raised new levies, and displayed all his old activity. About 
this time he was the hero of a well-known exploit. One day, 
while visiting his outposts at West Greenwich, he was surprised 
by Governor Tryon with a corps of fifteen hundred men. Put- 
nam had only a hundred and fifty men and two pieces of artillery 
to defend himself against this overpowering force. With these, 
he took his station on the brow of a steep declivity. As the 
British advanced, they were received with a sharp fire from the 
artillery ; but, perceiving the dragoons about to charge, Putnam 
ordered his men to retire to a swamp inaccessible to cavalry, while 
he himself forced his horse directly down the precipice. His pur- 
suers, who were close upon him, were horror-stricken at the au- 
dacity of the thing, and paused breathlessly until he was out of 
danger. The declivity, from this circumstance, has since borne 
the name of Putnam's Hill. 

During the campaign of 1779, which terminated General Put- 
nam's military career, he commanded the Maryland line. Being- 
stationed two miles below West Point, at Buttermilk Falls, he 
directed the principal part of his attention to strengthening the 
works of that important fortress. In December, when the Amer- 
ican army went into winter-quarters at Morristown, New Jersey, 
he obtained leave of absence to visit his family for a few weeks. 
As he was journeying toward Hartford, on his way back to 
Morristown, his progress was arrested by an attack of paralysis, 
by which the use of his limbs on one side was lost. He was un- 
willing to admit the real character of the disease, and endeavored, 
by vigorous exercise, to throw off the torpidity. The effort was 
unavailing, and for the remainder of his eventful life he was an 
invalid. On the 17th of May, 1790, he was suddenly attacked 
by an inflammatory disease, and two days later died. His re- 
mains were borne to the grave with the usual ceremonies due to 



ISRAEL PUTNAM. 269 

a distinguished military commander, and a feeling eulogy was 
pronounced on the occasion. He was consoled in the last few 
years of his life with the knowledge that the cause which he had 
espoused with such signal ardor and intrepidity had triumphed, 
and that he had been one of the humble instruments in the hands 
of a divine Providence to raise a down-trodden colony to the 
dignity and glory of a great nation. 



JOHN PKIDEAUX. 

The story of John Prideaux, a quaint fragment of early bi- 
ography, affords at once an instructive lesson, and an amusing 
insight into an early period of English history. Prideaux was 
born on the 17th of December, 1578, at Stowford, near Plym- 
outh, England. His father was in moderate circumstances, but, 
owing to the requirements of a large family, was unable to sup- 
ply his sons with liberal educations. John, who was the fourth, 
was merely taught to read and write. In spite of this drawback, 
he was soon destined to enter on public life. The parish clerk 
of Ugborough, a village about five miles from Stowford, had died, 
and his office was still vacant. John Prideaux was gifted with a 
fine voice, and, in spite of his youth, determined on applying for 
the situation. There was another competitor in the field — an 
experienced man, who had canvassed the village in a thoroughly 
business-like way. The parishioners determined on giving the 
rivals a fair trial, and arranged that one of the competitors should 
give out the psalms in the morning, and the other in the after- 
noon, and that the place should be given to the candidate who 
was most approved by the congregation. The result was what 
might have been expected — experience carried the day ; the parish- 
ioners decided in favor of Prideaux' s rival. It was fortunate that 
it so happened. In later days he used to say, " If I could have 
been parish clerk of Ugborough, I never should have been Bishop 
of Worcester." But the disappointment was a trying one, and 
bruised his young heart. There was a kind old lady in the vil- 
lage who observed the earnestness of his sorrow, and sympathized 
with it. She comforted the poor young fellow, and told him that 
"God might design him for greater things, and therefore he ought 
not to lament having failed in his recent attempt." She did more 
than this ; she placed him at the grammar-school, and maintained 
him there until he had acquired some knowledge of Latin and 
the higher branches of a solid education. A very kind and sens- 
ible gentlewoman was Mistress Fowell. 

Prideaux's thirst for knowledge was now thoroughly aroused ; 



JOHN PRIDEAUX. 271 

the country school could not supply his wants, and he determined 
to perfect his education at an English University. Accordingly, 
quitting parents, relatives, friends, and the scenes of his childhood, 
he set out for Oxford, performing the journey on foot, and trust- 
ing entirely to his good fortune for the result. The journey was 
a long and dismal one, and not without danger. He suffered 
many privations, but, in spite of these, reached Oxford in safety. 
At this renowned seat of learning he repaired to Exeter College, 
then largely patronized by gentlemen from the county of Devon. 
It is probable that he had some acquaintances there, or, at all 
events, some family friends, who would lend him a helping hand. 
He was an ingenuous lad, with engaging manners, and an open, 
frank way of looking people in the face ; and then he was an en- 
thusiast not easily repulsed. To some of these causes must be 
attributed his success ; he obtained admission to the college. His 
situation at first was but an humble one, he being employed as an 
assistant in the kitchen and in other menial offices. There are 
many fine minds that would sink beneath the degrading drudgery 
of such a situation, but Prideaux conceived it to be no disgrace 
to begin on the lowest step of the ladder. He never complained, 
but, on the contrary, was so cheerful and happy that he obtained 
the good-will of every one. The consequence was, that in 159G 
he was admitted a poor-scholar of Exeter College, and was placed 
under the tuition of Mr. William Helme, an able scholar, and 
Bachelor of Divinity. He now applied himself to study with a 
vigor which would have been fatal to a man with a less robust 
constitution. Night and day he pored over his books, and, being 
gifted with a remarkably tenacious memory, was soon able to 
master their contents. In less than three years he obtained his 
degree of Bachelor of Arts (1599) ; three years later, he was 
elected a probationer fellow of his college (1602). In the fol- 
lowing year he obtained his master's degree, and soon after en- 
tered into holy orders. To the study of divinity he directed all 
his energies, and he became recognized as the best theologian in 
the college. His bachelor's degree in divinity was taken in 1611, 
his master's degree in the following year. This was, indeed, 
rapid promotion for a poor boy who had worked his way to learn- 
ing through the pots and kettles of the kitchen ; but a greater 
honor was in store for him; in 1612 he was elected Kector of 
Exeter College. Quaint old Anthony a Wood says, that " in the 



272 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



rectorship of his college he carried himself so winning and pleas- 
ing, by his gentle government and fatherly instruction, that it 
flourished more than any house in the University with scholars, 
as well of great as of mean birth ; so also with many foreigners 
that came purposely to sit at his feet to gain instruction." In 
1615 Prideaux succeeded to the professorship of divinity in the 
University, to which office are annexed a canonry of Christ Church, 
and the rectory of Ewelme in Oxfordshire. In the professional 
chair he was a strenuous assailant of the doctrines of Arminius 
and Socinus, which were at that time gaining ground. His lec- 
tures were remarkable for vigor and perspicuity. Prince, in his 
account of the worthies of Devon, characterizes the style of Pri- 
deaux as being "manly for the strength, maidenly for the modesty, 
and elegant for the phrase thereof." It was also said of him that 
" the heroic spirit of Jewel, Rain olds, and Hooper, as though they 
were united in him, seemed once more to triumph, and to threaten 
the hierarchy of Babylon with a fatal blow." 

Prideaux held the professorship of Divinity for twenty-seven 
years, during which period he filled the dignified office of vice- 
chancellor five times. He was also domestic chaplain to Prince 
Henry, son of James I., and subsequently to King James himself, 
and Charles the First. These honors and preferments did not 
make him unmindful of his origin. He was uniformly compas- 
sionate to the poor, and to his parents affectionate and beneficent. 
The latter he delighted to surprise with unexpected visits, and by 
generous bounty to gladden their hearts, and cheer their path of 
life. In one of his visits to Devonshire for this purpose, as he 
passed through the parish of Ugborough, the church bell was toll- 
ing. On being told that it was for the funeral of an old woman 
who had been his godmother, he suspended his journey, accompa- 
nied the body to the grave, and delivered a suitable discourse 
upon the occasion. There is not much in an incident of this 
kind ; but it shows a simple nature, and an estimable trait in an 
ecclesiastic, who might, under such circumstances, consult dignity 
rather than natural impulse. Though unfeignedly pious, Prideaux 
was of a cheerful disposition, and loved to exhibit a chaste and 
elegant wit, always gay, but never bitter. He was fond of manly 
sports, and was an excellent archer. 

A man of so much distinction could not fail of preferment. On 
the 2d of November, 1641, he was nominated Bishop of Worces- 



JOHN PRIDEAUX. 273 

ter, and in the following December was consecrated. The office 
was a dignified one, but it was beset with perils. A sense of 
duty rather than a love of power induced him to accept it. The 
tyranny of Laud, and the slavish doctrines taught by many of the 
prelates, had ulcerated the minds of the people, and made them 
loathe the mitre and all who wore it. Only eight days after 
the consecration of Prideaux, nearly one half of the English bish- 
ops were guilty of an act which, under all the circumstances, 
would seem to have been prompted by insanity, or by passion bor- 
dering on insanity. Misled by the intriguing Archbishop of York, 
eleven prelates signed with him that extraordinary protest, by 
which they took upon themselves to nullify all proceedings that 
might take place in Parliament during their absence. Public in- 
dignation was intense, and too bitter to be discriminate. Al- 
though Prideaux' s name did not appear in the obnoxious docu- 
ment, he was doomed to share the odium it occasioned. 

In those days there were many wise men who believed in the 
divine right of kings (as if there was any thing divine in brutal 
stupidity, tyranny, and wrong), and Prideaux was unhappily of 
the number. When the people took up arms against the sover- 
eign, Prideaux endeavored to intrench himself behind preroga- 
tive, and to intimidate his foes by threats of excommunication. 
The torrent was too strong for such puny efforts. He was plun- 
dered, expelled, laid under sequestration, and at last reduced to 
such straits that he was fain to sell his valuable library and some 
fragments of property to provide for the wants of his family. 
" Having first, by indefatigable studies," says old Anthony, " di- 
gested his library into his mind, he was after forced again to de^ 
vour all his books with his teeth, turning them, by a miraculous 
faith and patience, into bread for himself and his children." Pri-r 
deaux explains the process with wonderful equanimity and hu- 
mor. Being questioned about his health, he replied, " Never bet^ 
ter in my life, only I have too great a stomach, for I have eaten 
that little plate which the sequestrators left me ; I have eaten a 
great library of excellent books ; I have eaten a great deal of lin- 
en, much of my brass, some of my pewter, and now I am come 
to eat iron, and what will come next I know not." 

Prideaux survived his misfortunes for many years, and outlived 
the king for whom he had made so great a sacrifice. On the 20th 
of July, 1650, Prideaux departed this life, leaving to his offspring 
M 2 



274 SELF-MADE MEN. 

a "pious poverty, God's blessing, and a father's blessing." The 
event drew forth various eulogiums, and Cleveland, the poet, sang 
his praises in exalted verse. Prideaux was twice married, and 
had a large family. As a writer, he has left several works, prin- 
cipally in the Latin tongue, which evince great learning and clear- 
ness. In his habits he was devout, simple-minded, humble, and 
virtuous. He had a horror of any thing like pride, and, as a 
perpetual remembrancer of his humble origin, the coarse attire 
in which he walked from Stowford to Oxford was hung up in his 
wardrobe, by the side of his episcopal robes. He was emphatic- 
ally a good man, and a remarkable instance of that strength of 
character which is the peculiar blessing of self-made men, and 
which, wherever and whenever manifest, rises superior to iron 
fortune and cruel circumstances. 




KOGEK WILLIAMS. 

The founder of religious toleration in the New World is just- 
ly esteemed a worthy of American history, and his name will 
endure so long as civilization shall have its records. Of the 
early history of this illustrious individual we know nothing, ex- 
cept that, whatever his birth and education, he had to fight his 
way in the world. In England, of which country he was a sub- 
ject (having been born in Wales in the year 1599), the independ- 
ence of his views, and the earnestness with which he inculcated 
them from the pulpit, soon raised him up an army of enemies and 
detractors. To escape these, he emigrated on the 1st of Decem- 
ber, 1630, in the ship Lion, from the port of Bristol. After a 
tempestuous voyage of sixty-six days, he arrived at Boston on 
the 5th of Februaiy, 1631, where he was received by the Church 
with every manifestation of delight. Williams's reputation as a 
powerful and earnest preacher had preceded him, and the theoc- 
racy of Narraganset Bay looked to him as an instrument of might 
sent for their special good. There is no doubt but he was, although 
not in the way they intended. 



276 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



It seems strange in these days to say that a man was ''re- 
markable" for advocating entire freedom of conscience ; yet such 
was the case with Roger Williams. The doctrine was new and 
particularly unpalatable in England. In Massachusetts it was 
equally offensive. He left the former country in consequence, 
but in the latter he was determined to fight it out. It will be 
seen in the sequel that the struggle was long and bitter, but 
triumphant. Society, as it then existed in Massachusetts, was 
completely under the dictation of the Church. The religious 
and the civil power were blended together, and the people, accus- 
tomed to it, and to a great extent preferring it, bent their necks 
or their knees, as occasion demanded. They did not think for 
themselves, but left that task to their pastors, believing that it 
was impossible to think rightly in the absence of clerkly lore. 
Then, if they neglected their duty, they submitted to the interpo- 
sition of the magistrates, who made them do all that the pastors 
said they ought to do. In such a community Roger Williams 
was not destined to be long at peace. Very shortly after his ar- 
rival he removed to Salem, and, in opposition to the magistrates 
of Boston, became minister of the church there. As his opinions 
became known, the opposition became more intense and irksome. 
Notwithstanding some popularity in Salem, he found it desirable, 
for the sake of peace and quietness, to remove out of the jurisdic- 
tion of the court of Massachusetts Bay, and seek a secluded home 
in the colony of Plymouth. For this purpose he migrated in the 
autumn of 1631, and was cordially received by the Pilgrim fa- 
thers; but the court of Massachusetts pursued him, and tried 
very hard to frighten away his congregation with rumors of her- 
esy. It is probable that this hostility was not without its result, 
for in August of 1633 we find Roger Williams returning to Salem, 
as if with the special object of bearding the lion in his den. His 
residence in Plymouth was principally remarkable for numerous 
excursions among the Indians, during which he studied their lan- 
guage, and obtained much moral power over many chiefs of tribes. 
" God was pleased to give me," he says, " a painful, patient spirit, 
to lodge with them in their filthy, smoky holes, even while I lived 
at Plymouth and Salem, to gain their tongue." 

With his second sojourn in Salem Roger Williams's eventful 
history properly commences. The magistrates renewed their 
hostility, but, in spite of this, he succeeded in obtaining the pas- 



ROGER WILLIAMS. 277 

torship of the church. One of his first acts was to call in ques- 
tion the expediency of a meeting of ministers, which had been es- 
tablished in the colony for the discussion of questions in theology, 
and for other similar purposes of mutual improvement. The 
magistrates saw in this the indications of a wavering orthodoxy, 
which might at any moment inquire into their expediency. An- 
other offense was a pamphlet which Williams had written, but 
never published, " On the Nature of the Eight claimed by the 
Monarchs of the several Nations of Christendom to dispose of the 
countries of Barbarous Tribes, by virtue of discovery." In this 
treatise, says Governor Winthrop, " among other things, he dis- 
puted their right to the land they possessed, and concluded that, 
claiming by the king's grant, they could have no title, nor other- 
wise, except they compounded with the natives." Notwithstand- 
ing the fact that this pamphlet was simply a manuscript docu- 
ment in his own desk, he was required to surrender it to the 
authorities, and, as they considered it dangerous and offensive, 
he was summoned to appear before the court and receive cen- 
sure. Williams replied to the magistrates that his pamphlet had 
been written "only for the private satisfaction of the Governor of 
Plymouth," and, while disclaiming any intention of offending the 
authorities, adhered manfully to the opinions he had uttered, but 
sent the manuscript to be burned by the hangman, if they thought 
fit. This bold course appears to have mollified the authorities ; 
" they found the matters not to be so evil as at first they seemed." 
The fundamental point on which Williams differed from his 
contemporaries, and which was the immediate cause of the hostil- 
ity of the court of Massachusetts, was that of liberty of conscience. 
He believed "that no human power had the right to intermeddle 
in matters of conscience ; and that neither Church nor State, nei- 
ther bishop, nor priest, nor king, may prescribe the smallest iota 
of religious faith." Living in a community where every thing 
was prescribed, this doctrine was singularly sweeping and hereti- 
cal. It is not remarkable, therefore, that every new assertion of 
it was listened to by the authorities with horror and misgiving — 
a protest against things as they existed. His own church was 
satisfied, but even this was looked on with displeasure, as an evi- 
dence of malign influence already exerted. To increase the bad 
feeling, a spirit of jealousy had sprung up between Salem and 
Boston, and any unusual proceedings in the former found savage 



278 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



commentators in the latter. The result was that Williams had 
to appear constantly before the court on the most trivial charges. 
Eminent divines, with no stain of heterodoxy on their characters, 
were sent to convert the obdurate Williams ; but he was unyield- 
ing, and they came back with more confirmed notions of his dan- 
gerousness. The exaggerations which were the natural result 
of these interviews were repelled by straightforward declarations 
from Williams, denying what he did not believe, and reiterating 
the faith which he held. He was unmerciful on the civil power. 
" It extends," he maintained, " only to the bodies, and goods, and 
outward estates of men ;" concerning spiritual matters, " the civil 
magistrate may not intermeddle, even to stop a church from apos- 
tasy and heresy." 

An opportunity soon occurred for venting the displeasure of 
the court not only against Williams, but against Salem. The peo- 
ple of the latter town preferred to the court a claim for a tract of 
land lying in Marblehead Neck ; but the court, as a punishment 
for the contempt of authority the town had shown in settling Mr. 
Williams, refused to allow the claim. The injustice of this re- 
fusal excited the sturdy spirit of Williams. In conjunction with 
the Church, he wrote " letters of admonition unto all the church- 
es, whereof any of the magistrates were members, that they might 
admonish the magistrates of their injustice." This direct appeal 
from the terrible decision of the court was too flagrant to be tol- 
erated. The deputies of Salem were deprived of their seats un- 
til the letter had been satisfactorily explained, and ample apology 
made for its doctrines. The town of Salem, terrified by these 
proceedings, made the proper submission, but not before Williams 
had farther committed himself by urging them to renounce all 
communion with the other churches of the colony. Thus aban- 
doned by his Church and his townsmen, he stood alone to face the 
fierce storm which was gathering. A committee was sent to Sa- 
lem to deal with him and censure him ; but he refused to be dealt 
with and censured, and expressed himself " ready to be bound, 
and banished, and even to die," but not to renounce his conscien- 
tious convictions. In the following July he was summoned to 
Boston to answer the charges brought against him at the General 
Court, which was then in session. The following were the charges : 
" First, that the magistrate ought not to punish the breach of the 
first table otherwise than in such cases as did disturb the civil 



ROGER WILLIAMS. 279 

peace. Secondly, that he ought not to tender an oath to an un- 
regenerate man. Thirdly, that he ought not to pray with such, 
though wife, child, etc. Fourthly, that a man ought not to give 
thanks after sacrament, nor after meat." These charges were the 
subject of long and serious debate, which terminated in allowing 
him and the Church in Salem " time to consider these things till 
the next General Court, and then either to give satisfaction or to 
expect the sentence." 

The next General Court met in October, 1635. Williams ap- 
peared in obedience to the summons, and stood manfully to his 
principles. Many of his old adherents deserted him now that the 
crisis had arrived. He stood alone, the majestic impersonifica- 
tion of Principle. The decision of the court was as follows : 
" Whereas, Mr. Roger Williams, one of the elders of the Church 
of Salem, hath broached and divulged divers new and dangerous 
opinions against the authority of magistrates, as also writ letters 
of defamation, both of the magistrates and churches here, and that 
before any conviction, and yet maintaineth the same without any 
retraction ; it is therefore ordered that the said Mr. Williams shall 
depart out of this jurisdiction within six weeks now next ensu- 
ing, which if he neglect to perform, it shall be lawful for the gov- 
ernor and two of the magistrates to send him to some place out 
of this jurisdiction, not to return any more without license of the 
court." This unjust decree was .endorsed by all the ministers 
save one; but, notwithstanding this clerical sanction, it caused 
much excitement, and the more moderate of the colonists viewed 
the act with abhorrence. It was complained soon afterward that 
people were "taken with an apprehension of his godliness;" that 
is to say, they began to look on him in the light of a martyr. 
This unexpected sympathy threw the court into new doubts. It 
was apprehended that many of his old communicants would with- 
draw with him, and thus, perhaps, found a new and rival colony. 
To prevent this, it was determined to ship the refractory clergy- 
man to England, and so dispose of him for good. A fresh sum- 
mons was served on him, demanding his presence once more be- 
fore the court at Boston ; but this he was unwilling or unable to 
respect. His health had given way under the manifold oppres- 
sions and persecutions to which he had been subjected. The 
magistrates were too eager to be thus bluffly foiled. A warrant 
was sent to Salem to apprehend him, and convey him on board 



280 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



an English vessel in the harbor. The officer to whom was in- 
trusted the unpleasant task found Mrs. Williams and her family, 
but Roger Williams had departed. The cold winter wind howled 
over the dreary landscape where he wandered, and the falling 
flakes of snow obliterated all traces of his footsteps. 

For days and days he wandered in the unbeaten tracks of the 
forest, across wild ridges of mountains, through treacherous mo- 
rasses, over still more treacherous snow-banks. " I was severely 
tossed," says he, " for fourteen weeks, in a bitter winter season, 
not knowing what bread or bed did mean." Broken in health 
and spirits, pursued by well-grounded fears of apprehension, scent- 
ed by wild beasts, can any thing more pathetic, more earnest be 
imagined than the picture of this true Christian patriot, toiling 
through the savage wilds, and sustaining himself with the one 
hope that he might yet succeed in removing the bandage from 
bigot eyes, and the one conviction that he was Right before God. 

During his early residence at Plymouth he availed himself of 
many opportunities of cultivating a friendly feeling with the In- 
dians, and even acquired some knowledge of their language. In 
his wanderings he reaped the advantage of these advances. He 
fell in with many tribes. " These ravens fed me in the wilder- 
ness," he says, and his life was doubtless preserved by their kindly 
hospitality. The famous chief Massasoit was more than kind. He 
received the toil-spent wanderer, overwhelmed him with attentions, 
and, when the spring came, gave him a tract of land on the See- 
konk River, where " he pitched, and began to build and plant." 
When the news of his safety reached his Salem friends, several 
of them flocked to his side, anxious to share his exile, and to help 
establish an independent colony, where toleration should be more 
than an empty word. All bade fair to end happily, when suddenly 
Williams received a communication from the Governor of Plym- 
outh, informing him that he was still within the bounds of the 
colony, and advising him to remove to the other side of the river. 
The advice was tendered in a friendly way, and Williams took it 
without hesitation. He abandoned the land he had commenced 
tilling, pulled down the house he had built, and, embarking in a 
rude Indian canoe, dropped down the stream in company with 
five companions. He passed round the headlands now known as 
Fox Point and Indian Point, up the harbor to the mouth of the 
Mooshanic River, and there landed. It was summer now, and 



ROGER WILLIAMS. 281 

the foliage looked bright and beautiful in the gay sunshine. The 
solitude of primeval nature was unbroken save by the chirruping 
of birds and the murmuring of a beautiful spring at which they 
refreshed themselves. Roger Williams felt that he had been 
guided to this delicious retreat by an all-wise Providence, and 
with a thankful heart he called the spot Providence, and struck 
the first stake of the "plantations of Providence." "Rhode 
Island," says Mr. Bonner, in his excellent " Child's History of 
the United States," "is a very small state, and looks quite in- 
significant on the map when compared with such great states as 
New York, Pennsylvania, and Ohio ; but when I remember that 
Ehode Island was the first place in the world where liberty of 
conscience was established, I can not think of any country in 
which it is more glorious to have been born." 

We have seen that Roger Williams attached no importance to 
the patents which kings were in the habit of granting, because he 
argued they had no right to grant what did not belong to them. 
He did not feel justified, however, in taking possession of the 
island on which he found himself without first obtaining permis- 
sion from the rightful owners. He went, therefore, to the sa- 
chems of the country, and purchased the lands " lying upon the 
two fresh rivers called Mooshanic and Wanasquatucket." In 
consideration of former kindnesses, the Indians voluntarily ceded 
to him all the other land lying between the above-named rivers 
and the Pawtuxet. In order to raise the funds needed for this 
purpose, and for removing his wife and family to the new settle- 
ment, he had to mortgage his house and land in Salem. Little 
did he imagine how utterly unequal the bargain would soon be- 
come. 

His ambition was to make the new settlement "a shelter for 
persons distressed for conscience." It was no part of his plan to 
assume any kind of authority over the settlers, or to take for his 
share more land than they had for theirs, although of right it all 
belonged to him. Those who came were located cheerfully, and 
not a penny demanded. Thus humanely and generously did this 
good man found the infant State of Rhode Island. As, however, 
some kind of obligation was needed from the many who now 
flocked to the settlement, the following instrument was drawn up, 
and adopted by each new resident : " We, whose names are here 
underwritten, being desirous to inhabit the town of Providence, 



282 



SELF-MADE MEN. 





do promise to submit ourselves, in active or passive obedience, to 
all such orders or agreements as shall be made for the public good 
of the body, in an orderly way, by the major consent of the pres- 
ent inhabitants, masters of families, incorporated together into a 
township, and such others whom they shall admit into the same, 
only in civil things." It was June, 1636, when Williams stepped 
on shore from his canoe ; this simple compact endured for four 
years, without any special interpreters. In 1640 we find men- 
tion of a treasurer, but of no other officer. It was a complete 
little family party, with a glorious, genial, generous father at its 
head. 

If Roger Williams ever bore resentment against the authori- 
ties of Massachusetts Bay, he soon forgot it. During the Pequot 
war, which ended in the extermination of the Pequot race, he ex- 
erted himself with remarkable bravery and ardor on their behalf, 
and subsequently he never missed an opportunity of proving how 
easily a good man may forget injury. But the authorities were 
not to be appeased. They saw that the disaffected of their own 
colony flew to Roger Williams's settlement as to a place of sanc- 
tuary; that they became good citizens there, and did as their 
conscience bade them, without bringing perdition on those around 
them. What was worse, they raised their voices against the bigot- 
ry and intolerance of the older colony, and loudly denounced every 
fresh act of injustice. A letter was even dictated, coming from 
Providence, which complained of the acts of the General Court 
and the prevailing spirit of the colony. The authorities became 
greatly incensed, and immediately passed an order that if any of 
the settlers of Providence should be found within the jurisdiction 
of Massachusetts, he should be brought before one of the magis- 
trates, and, if he gave his sanction to the letter, he should be sent 
home, and forbidden to come again into the jurisdiction, on pain 
of imprisonment and farther censure. The effect of this unjust 
act was severely felt in Providence, but no revengeful spirit was 
aroused in the tranquil bosom of Roger Williams. 

He was doomed, however, to be sorely perplexed, soon after, by 
a wild fellow named Gorton, who, after having been turned out 
of the Boston, Plymouth, and Rhode Island settlements, sought 
refuge at Providence. He was of course welcomed, but the sim- 
ple restraints of the compact we have copied were insufficient for 
his turbulent spirit. Gorton had his adherents, who followed 



ROGER WILLIAMS. 283 

him in his various ejectments, and who soon got the little com- 
munity into a dispute. It is said that the inhabitants of Provi- 
dence became so incensed that they appealed to arms, and it was 
only by the personal intervention of Williams that a combat of 
the two parties was averted. The anger excited by this state of 
things did not soon subside. To end the dispute, the weaker par- 
ty sent an appeal to Massachusetts for aid — contrary, of course, 
to the wish of Williams. It was refused, but the appeal suggest- 
ed a new course of policy to the Massachusetts authority. This 
was none other than to assert, whenever the opportunity occur- 
red, complete jurisdiction over the settlement of Providence. 

The confederation of the colonies of New England for mutual 
protection took place in 1643. Plymouth, Massachusetts Bay, 
Connecticut, and New Haven were the parties to the union, 
Providence being entirely ignored. An application was subse- 
quently made by this settlement, and by the sister one of Ehode 
Island, to be included in the compact, but it was sternly refused. 
The settlers on the plantations were thus thrown entirely on their 
own resources for protection as well as support. They continued 
in prosperity, however, and daily received new accessions to their 
strength. Their neighbors constantly taunted them with their 
exposed position, and insisted that they were even without any 
' civil power. Finding themselves thus placed, they were induced 
at length to unite in seeking the favor and protection of the moth- 
er country. The mission was intrusted to Roger Williams, who, 
in the summer of 1643, set sail from New York for his native 
land. He was received cordially, especially by Sir Henry Vane, 
a member of the Privy Council, who was himself a famous advo- 
cate of freedom of conscience. Mainly through his exertions, 
Williams succeeded in getting a charter for the towns of Provi- 
dence, Portsmouth, and Newport, entitled " The Incorporation of 
Providence Plantations, in the Narraganset Bay, in New En- 
gland." The charter was dated March 14th, 1644, and gave to 
the inhabitants full power " to make and ordain such civil laws 
and constitutions as they, or the greatest part of them, shall by 
free consent agree unto." The charter distinctly recognized all 
that was claimed for the civil government by the founder of the 
colony, and had the additional virtue of not going farther than 
was actually needed. Having accomplished all that his most san- 
guine wishes led him to expect, he returned to America, and ar- 






284 SELF-MADE MEN. 

rived at Boston on the 17th of September, 1644. He brought 
with him a conciliatory letter to the authorities, signed by some 
of the most eminent men in England ; but it had no effect. The 
only concession they made was to allow him to pass through their 
territory unmolested. A far different reception awaited him in 
his own settlement. All the inhabitants turned out to meet him 
upon the road and bear him back in triumph. 

Owing to fresh disturbances among the Indians, and other 
causes, a form of government under the new charter was not 
agreed upon until May, 1647. Roger Williams's disinterested 
love was again manifested. Instead of becoming the first presi- 
dent of the new colony, as of right he should hvae been, he ac- 
cepted the subordinate office of assistant for the town of Provi- 
dence. We do not find such modesty among public men in our 
days. One of the first acts of the new Assembly was to vote a 
sum of one hundred pounds to defray the expenses which Roger 
Williams had been put to in obtaining the charter from the En- 
glish government. We are sorry to add that this sum was never 
paid in full. A code of laws was also adopted at the same meet- 
ing, similar in spirit to those of the mother country, but with 
this characteristic provision, that, " otherwise than what is herein 
forbidden, all men may walk as their consciences persuade them, 
every one in the fear of his God." 

The sacrifices he had made for the public service, and the in- 
ability or unwillingness of the colonists to reimburse him, com- 
pelled Williams (who had a large family) to seek an honest living 
in some profitable mercantile way. The fur trade was then ex- 
tensively carried on, and it occurred to him that, by establishing 
a trading-house, he might easily secure much of the Indian traffic. 
His popularity with the various tribes and knowledge of their lan- 
guage rendered him peculiarly fitted for this business. Accord- 
ingly, he withdrew from the town, and erected a trading-house. 
He was not disappointed in his expectations. The Indians were 
delighted to deal with a man so fair, honest, and straightforward. 
In a little while he established a remunerative business, which he 
says brought him in a hundred pounds a year profit. He was not 
destined long to enjoy this gleam of prosperity. A number of 
difficulties sprung up in the little colony, arising from the loose 
wording of the charter. Dissensions were rife, and ill-will grew 
up between man and man. The best disposed appealed to Roger 



ROGER WILLIAMS. 285 

Williams for help ; they prayed that he would once more go to 
England for them, and permanently settle all the points which 
caused this agitation. With a wife and a large family to support, 
and the recollection of former losses, he was at first naturally un- 
willing to undertake this mission ; but when fresh and more earn- 
est representations were made to him, he yielded. The colonists 
were too poor to pay his expenses, so he sold his trading-house, 
and once more sailed for England. Under the auspices of Sir 
Henry Yane, he was again triumphant. It needed time, however, 
to obtain all that was required, and for a poor man time is a very 
expensive luxury. In order, therefore, to support his wife and 
family at home, he obtained employment in London as a teacher 
of languages. During his sojourn he received a letter from the 
General Assembly of Providence, thanking him for his care and 
diligence, and expressing the opinion "that it might tend much 
to the weighing of men's minds, and subjecting of persons who 
have been refractory to yield themselves over as unto a settled 
government, if it might be the pleasure of the honorable state to 
invest, appoint, and empower himself to come over as governor of 
the colony for the space of one year." A request like this was so 
diametrically opposed to his principles, that Williams merely put 
the letter in his pocket. That was the last heard of it. In the 
summer of 1654 he returned to Providence, and was dismayed to 
find the colony still in a distracted state, and its people quarreling 
and fighting among themselves. A meeting of the town was soon 
after held, and subsequently of the commissioners of all the towns, 
which resulted in the reorganizing of the colony, and the adoption 
of measures for its future prosperity and happiness. At the first 
general election Roger Williams was chosen president of the col- 
ony. His administration lasted two years, and was marked by 
great liberality of sentiment and firmness of character. In such 
a strangely-mixed community, it was not remarkable that some 
vexatious spirits should try to abuse the freedom which they enjoy- 
ed, and convert it into an irresponsible license. They were soon 
aroused to a perception of what liberty of conscience meant. In a 
quaint letter, Roger Williams gave them an insight into the kind 
of authority that might be exercised over them. u There goes 
many a ship to sea," he wrote, " with many hundred souls in one 
ship, whose weal and woe is common, and is a true picture of a 
commonwealth, or a human combination or society. It hath fall- 





286 SELF-MADE MEN. 

en out, sometimes, that both Papists and Protestants, Jews and 
Turks, may be embarked in one ship; upon which supposal, I 
affirm that all the liberty of conscience that ever I pleaded for 
turns upon these two hinges : that none of the Papists, Protest- 
ants, Jews, or Turks be forced to come to the ship's prayers or 
worship, or compelled from their own particular prayers or wor- 
ship, if they practice any. I further add, that I never denied that, 
notwithstanding this liberty, the commander of this ship ought to 
command the ship's course, yea, and also command that justice, 
peace, and sobriety may be kept and practiced, both among the 
seamen and all the passengers. If any of the seamen refuse to 
perform their service, or passengers to pay their freight ; if any 
refuse to help, in person or purse, toward the common charges or 
defense ; if any refuse to obey the common laws and orders of the 
ship concerning their common peace and preservation ; if any shall 
mutiny and rise up against their commanders and officers; if any 
shall preach or write that there ought to be no commanders or 
officers, because all are equal in Christ, therefore no masters and 
officers, no laws nor orders, no corrections nor punishments — I 
say I never denied but in such cases, whatever is pretended, the 
commander or commanders may judge, resist, compel, and punish 
such transgressors, according to their deserts and merits. This, 
if seriously and honestly minded, may, if it so please the Father of 
Lights, let in some light to such as willingly shut not their eyes." 
In spite of this plain definition of what the authorities might do, 
a hot dispute arose between Roger Williams and an extremist of 
the name of Harris, who maintained that, according to his con- 
science, he "ought not to yield subjection to any human order 
among men." This strange being was afterward prosecuted, but 
with no result, the case being sent to England for adjudication. 
In the controversy which ensued, it is to be regretted that both 
Williams and Harris lost their tempers. That liberty of con- 
science was amply maintained, in the best sense of the word, was 
proved by the fact that the persecuted Quakers found a refuge in 
the colony, where they were amply protected, in spite of the. re- 
monstrances and threats of Massachusetts. 

In May, 1658, Roger Williams retired from the office of presi- 
dent, with no desire to return to it. He was, however, frequent- 
ly honored by civil appointments of trust and weight when great 
honesty and probity were needed ; and in the new charter grant- 



ROGER WILLIAMS. 287 

ed by Charles the Second in 1663, was appointed one of the as- 
sistants under the governor. This charter was the one for which 
he had made his second visit to England. He was unable to re- 
main until it was completed, and his colleague, Mr. Clarke, had 
the honor of obtaining it from the king. " It was the first char- 
ter," says Mr. Gammell, " that ever bore the signature of a king, 
and was the astonishment of the age in which it was granted. 
Like that which preceded it, it secured the most perfect freedom 
in matters of conscience, and thus guaranteed the perpetual exer- 
cise of the great principles on which the colony was founded. It 
continued to be the fundamental law of Rhode Island for nearly 
a hundred and eighty years, protecting the rights and securing 
the happiness of a long succession of generations, and 'holding 
forth a lively experiment that a most flourishing civil state may 
stand, and best be maintained, with a full liberty in religious con- 
cernments.' " It was not supplanted until 1843. 

In 1670 Williams was again chosen assistant, and also in 1677, 
but declined to be re-elected. He was now advanced in life, and 
needed repose. It was probably with the object of securing this 
that he declined the solicitations of his friends ; but a man of 
his standing and popularity was not likely to be overlooked in or 
out of office. In 1672 he engaged in his celebrated Quaker con- 
troversy, endeavoring by argument to confute the peculiar doc- 
trines of this sect. It is unnecessary to add that he failed in this 
effort ; but it is well to remind the reader that, although he shel- 
tered the Quakers when they needed shelter, he was by no means 
their friend, and frequently displayed more temper concerning 
them than we can account for by his antecedents. In the sum- 
mer of 1675, the disastrous Indian crusade, headed by the famous 
King Philip, commenced. It was intended, by a confederation of 
all the tribes, to expel the whites from the country. The at- 
tempt was vigorous, and ended in the destruction of a vast amount 
of property, and the massacre of some five hundred of the colo- 
nists. At first Williams tried to exercise his wonted power over 
the savage minds of his enemies, but, failing in this, he girded on 
the sword, and commanded a train-band for the protection of the 
city. Unfortunately, it fell beneath the devastating hands of the 
Indians, and most of the public records were destroyed, thus oblit- 
erating much of the written testimony of this man's excellence. 

The remaining years of Roger Williams's life were unmarked 



288 SELF-MADE MEN. 

by any event of historical importance, or, if such occurred, we are 
now without the record. It is probable that his exertions were 
directed mainly to the healing of old sores which still existed 
among the colonists, and that, like a benevolent sage, he acted 
the part of a public pacificator. At the time of his death he was 
in his eighty-fourth year, but the precise day when he departed 
this life is unknown. The only record of the event is found in a 
letter of the 10th of May, 1683, which mentions " that the Lord 
hath arrested by death our ancient and approved friend, Mr. Roger 
Williams, with divers others here." 

Mr. Williams was the author of several literary works, mostly 
of a theological and controversial character. His style was not 
remarkable for elegance or clearness, but it possessed a rude pio- 
neer strength which served all the purposes of more polished com- 
position. As an ecclesiastic he has been accused, and not unjust- 
ly, of wavering in his profession of doctrinal faith ; but this is 
not remarkable. His experience of extreme religious tenacity, 
as exhibited by the ecclesiastics of Boston, may have warned him 
against a similar course, and led him to doubts, and fears, and 
wanderings in search of the truth. One thing has never been 
doubted : he was a good and sincere Christian, indefatigable in 
his labors and unwearied in his diligence, and "one of the most 
disinterested men that ever lived — a most pious and heavenly- 
minded soul."* 

* Callender. 



WILLIAM HUT TON. 

The subject of this memoir was a native of England, born at 
Derby on the 30th of September, 1723. His parents were in 
very humble circumstances, and belonged to the dissenting sect. 
Hutton says that they were remarkable for their steady love of 
peace and pudding ; remarkable, also, for memory ; not given 
much to receive, keep, or pay money ; often sensible, always mod- 
est ; the males inactive, the females distinguished for capacity. 
William was the most ordinary-looking child of the family, and 
his mother used to say that she was afraid she could not love 
him ; but poverty — that awful test of human goodness — softened 
her heart, and she was true and kind to him as to the others. 
The family was sorely pressed at times, and more than once the 
poor woman sat with one infant on her knee and others nestled 
around her, on the cold floor, wailing for food, and when at 
length it arrived in scanty quantities, she surrendered her share 
to the more eager wants of her offspring. Time produced noth- 
ing but tatters and children. 

A lad so pitiably circumstanced was not likely to receive much 
education. For a very short time he was sent to school, and un- 
derwent the discipline of a petty tyrant, who imagined that it was 
necessary to break a boy's head in order to get any thing into it. 
At the age of seven he had to earn his own living, and was ac- 
cordingly apprenticed for seven years to a silk-mill. As he was 
too short to reach the engine, the superintendents elevated him 
on a pair of pattens, and on this false footing he remained until 
nature kindly supplied him with a few more inches. 

In 1733, the family received a severe blow in the death of Mrs. 
Hutton. It was a fatal event for the children, who found them- 
selves without a home, for their father took to drinking, and gave 
them but few of his thoughts. William did all that lay in his 
power, and struggled with his hard fate bravely and cheerily ; 
but, in spite of his attentions, he had the wretchedness of seeing 
his little sister perish of want and neglect. In 1737 he quitted 
the silk-mill, of which he gives the following dismal picture : " I 

N 



290 ' SELF-MADE MEN. 

had to rise at five every morning during seven years ; submit to 
the cane whenever convenient to the master; be the constant 
companion of the most rude and vulgar of the human race, never 
taught by nature, nor even wishing to be taught. A lad, let his 
mind be in what state it would, must be as impudent as they, or 
be hunted down." The following year he removed to the adjacent 
town of Nottingham, where he found a generous, friendly uncle, 
and a mean, sneaking aunt — the one seriously religious, the other 
seriously hypocritical. He also made the acquaintance of two of 
his uncle's apprentices, whom he describes, the one as a rogue, 
the other as a greater. Under the roof of this relative it was 
intended that he should pass seven years of his existence in 
learning the business of stocking-weaving, and probably would 
have done so but for an event which made him naturally enough 
dissatisfied with the treatment he received. On one occasion (it 
was holiday time) William was a little behind-hand with his 
work. His uncle noticed it, and reproved him with want of in- 
dustry, giving him at the same time a task to be executed by a 
certain time. The day arrived, but the work was unfinished. 
"Could you have done the task I ordered?" asked the uncle. 
William, scorning to tell a falsehood, meekly replied, "I could." 
Instead of being pleased with this manly acknowledgment, his 
uncle flew into a violent rage, and fell on his nephew with a stick, 
repeating his blows until the lad thought he would be broken to 
pieces. The whole neighborhood was aroused by the clamor, and 
a double punishment was thereby inflicted upon the lad. The 
very next day a female acquaintance pointed to him derisively as 
the boy " who was licked last night." Stung to the quick by the 
publicity which had thus been given to his disgrace, he resolved 
on putting an end to it by flight. Concealing himself till the 
family were gone to meeting, he took two shillings from a glass 
which contained ten, and packed up his small stock of movables. 
His uncle having locked the door and taken the key with him, 
Hutton was compelled to scale an eight-feet wall to make good 
his escape. 

He was now a boy of seventeen, not elegantly dressed, nearly 
five feet high, and rather Dutch-built in appearance. He had a 
long, narrow bag of brown leather, holding about a bushel, in 
which was neatly packed up a new suit of clothes ; also a white 
linen bag, holding about half as much, containing a sixpenny loaf 



WILLIAM HUTTOK 291 

of coarse bread, a bit of butter wrapped in the leaves of an old 
copy-book, a new Bible worth three shillings, one shirt, a pair of 
stockings, a sun-dial, and his best wig, carefully folded and laid 
at the top, so that it might not be crushed. The ends of the two 
bags being tied together, he slung them over his left shoulder, 
while hanging to the button of the coat was his best hat. Thus 
heavily caparisoned, and with two shillings *in pocket, he started 
on his pursuit of fortune. He carried neither a light heart nor 
a light load. " I considered myself," he says, " an outcast, an 
exuberance in the creation, a being now fitted to no purpose." 
He turned his steps toward his home, and from thence proceeded 
to Burton, at which place he disbursed the first penny from his 
scanty funds — not for refreshment, as one might suppose, but for 
the luxury of having some one to take care of his bags while he 
took a stroll in the town. In the evening of the same day he 
reached the vicinity of Lichfield. Hiding his bags under a hedge, 
he perambulated the city for two hours, and then returned to find 
a lodging for the night. Having been disappointed with respect 
to one barn, he went a short distance to look after another, and, 
imagining that his property would be safe, left it behind him. 
After an absence of ten minutes he returned, and, to his horror 
and dismay, discovered that his treasure had disappeared. Driven 
almost to madness by this disaster, he ran raving and lamenting 
about the fields, roads, and streets, asking every one he met if 
they had seen his bags. Midnight approached, and, disappoint- 
ed and broken-hearted, he threw himself on a butcher's block 
to rest his weary limbs. In the morning he recommenced his 
search, but it was in vain. Possessing nothing now but the pal- 
try remnants of his two shillings, he departed once more for the 
manufacturing towns, where he hoped and expected to obtain 
employ. In due time he arrived at Birmingham. There were 
but three stocking-makers in the place ; to these Hutton instantly 
applied. The first was a Quaker, who refused to have any thing 
to say to him on the ground that he was an apprentice who had 
run away from his employ. The second gave him a penny to 
get rid of him. The third got rid of him without the penny. 
Dejected, weary, and hungiy, he sat down on a door-step to rest 
himself and meditate on his hard fortune. While thus wretch- 
edly musing, two men in aprons caught sight of his woeful face, 
and, taking compassion on his youth, invited him to a supper of 



292 SELF-MADE MEN. 

bread and cheese and a pint of ale. Subsequently they procured 
him a bed in a neighboring tavern at an expense of three cents. It 
does not necessarily require a fortune to perform a kind and timely 
act of hospitality. From Birmingham Hutton proceeded to Cov- 
entry, and thence to Nuneaton and Hinckley. In the latter place 
he fell in with a townsman, who urged him, in the most earnest 
manner, to return to his uncle's. Weary of his misfortunes, Hut- 
ton was ready to accede to any proposition. He had discovered 
that running away was by no means a certain escape from present 
evils, and that it was better to endure some things than to hazard 
others. 

A reconciliation was soon effected with his uncle, who probably 
felt that he had, in a moment of passion, treated his nephew with 
unnecessary harshness, and Hutton served the remaining term of 
his apprenticeship without any particular event which need be 
mentioned. During a part of this period he derived much bene- 
fit from the conversation and advice of ,an old gentleman named 
Webb who came to lodge with his uncle, and who seems to have 
taken a fancy to the young fellow. In his moments of leisure Hut- 
ton practiced music on an old harp which he had purchased for 
half a crown, and was so successful that he resolved to make a 
dulcimer, and borrowed one as a pattern. He was without timber 
or tools, or money to procure them ; but, in spite of these trifling 
obstacles, succeeded. By pulling to pieces a large family trunk, 
converting the hammer-key and plyers of the stocking-frame into 
a hammer and pincers, using his pocket-knife as an edge-tool, and 
making the remaining prong of a broken fork serve as a sprig-awl 
and gimlet, he obtained all that was necessary for his purpose. 
The instrument he turned out was of such a superb kind that an 
enthusiastic baker's boy purchased it for the sum of sixteen shil- 
lings, with which Hutton bought a coat. The career of the dul- 
cimer, however, was brought to an untimely end. Somehow or 
other the baker's apprentice could not induce it to discourse 
"excellent" or any other music, and one day was so enraged 
with what he considered the mere obstinacy of the instrument 
that he put it to an ignominious death by consuming it in his 
oven — a professional revenge which must have been grateful to 
his feelings. 

At Christmas, 1744, the term of Hutton' s apprenticeship expired. 
He had now served two terms of seven years each to two trades, 



WILLIAM HUTTON. 293 

upon neither of which, as he remarks, could he exist. He con- 
tinued to work as a journeyman for his uncle, but the business 
did not interest him. He began to have an inclination for books, 
and to the extent of his scanty means purchased old volumes, the 
binding of which he repaired with much ingenuity, and the con- 
tents of which he devoured with eagerness. In his binding experi- 
ments he was encouraged by the bookseller from whom he bought 
his books, and his success in this business was the first step on 
the ladder of fortune. Before this was accomplished, he suffered, 
in common with thousands of others, severe privations. On one 
occasion, the products of the stocking-frame were at such a low 
ebb that he had to travel as far as Leicester to sell half a dozen 
pair of hose, and could find neither a purchaser nor an employer. 
As he "Stood before a gentleman to whom he offered his goods, he 
burst into tears to think that he should have served seven years 
to a trade at which he could not get bread. 

In 1746 Hutton lost his uncle, who died from the bursting of a 
blood-vessel. His sister Catharine then took a house, and Hutton 
went to board with her. With her assistance, he added the busi- 
ness of book-binding to the rattling of the stocking-frame. The 
novelty of the combination secured him many customers, princi- 
pally among those who were not particularly qualified to judge 
of the excellence of his work. He went on improving, however, 
and in a little time found that he needed better tools, especially 
for lettering. He wished also to open an account with some 
wholesale London house, so that he might in future purchase all 
his materials to the best advantage. His sister came to his assist- 
ance, and advanced a sum of fifteen or twenty dollars, with which 
the young enthusiast took his departure for the metropolis. He 
has left us a full account of this journey. The first day he walked 
fifty-one miles (he was, of course, too poor to ride), and, being un- 
used to so much exercise, got his feet badly blistered ; but he did 
not lose courage or time, and reached London on the third day. 
He put up at a tavern, and ordered a luxurious supper, consisting 
of a mutton-chop and a pint of porter ; but, notwithstanding the 
expensiveness of the banquet, he was unable to touch it. Fatigue 
had deprived him of his appetite. He did not make another ex- 
periment of the same kind, but breakfasted the next morning at a 
wheelbarrow-stand in Smithfield. During the remainder of his 
stay his mode of living was economical. Sometimes he had a 



294 SELF-MADE MEN. 

halfpenny worth of soup and another of bread ; at other times, 
bread and cheese. 

Having transacted all his business satisfactorily, he tramped 
back to Nottingham. Where to fix his residence with the best 
prospect of obtaining trade was now the question which engaged 
his attention. His choice fell upon Southwell, fourteen miles off, 
which he afterward described as "a town despicable as the road 
to it." Here he took a shop (1749), at the rent of twenty shillings 
a year, intending merely to keep it open on the market-days. His 
stock of books was slim, but it was the best in the place, and per- 
haps too good. During a very rainy winter, he set out at five every 
Saturday morning, carried a burden of from three pounds' weight 
to thirty, opened store at ten, starved in it all day upon bread, 
cheese, and ale, took from one to six shillings, shut up at four, 
and, by trudging through the solitary night and the deep roads 
for five hours more, arrived at Nottingham by nine, where he 
always found a mess of milk porridge by the fire, prepared by his ■ 
kind sister. 

By perseverance and frugality, his circumstances became so 
much better that in the following year he determined on remov- 
ing to Birmingham, for which town, ever since his runaway visit, 
he had felt a strong predilection. In February, 1750, he jour- 
neyed thither, in order to see what opportunities were open to 
enterprise. He found that there were only three considerable 
booksellers in the place, and determined at once that he would 
take his humble chance to obtain a share of public patronage. 
On his journey home he met with an adventure, which we will 
recount in his own words. "Meaning to take Swithland on my 
return to Nottingham, to visit my two aunts, I was directed 
through Tamworth, where I spent one penny ; then through a 
few villages, with blind roads, to Charnwood Forest, over which 
were five miles of uncultivated waste, without any road. To all 
this I was a stranger. Passing through a village in the dusk of 
the evening, I determined to stop at the next public house ; but, 
to my surprise, I instantly found myself upon the forest. It began 
to rain ; it was dark ; I was in no road ; nor was any dwelling 
near. I was among hills, rocks, and precipices, and so bewildered 
that I could not retreat. I considered my situation as desperate, 
and must confess I lost the fortitude of a man. 

"I wandered slowly, though in the rain, for fear of destruc- 



WILLIAM HUTTON. 295 

tion, and hallooed with all my powers, but met with no return. 
I was about two hours in this cruel state, when I thought the in- 
distinct form of a roof appeared against the sky. My vocifera- 
tions continued, but to no purpose. I concluded it must be a 
lonely barn ; but, had it been the receptacle of ghosts, it would have 
been desirable. At length I heard the sound of a man's voice, 
which, though one of the most terrific, gave me pleasure. I con- 
tinued advancing, perhaps thirty yards, using the soft persuasives 
of distress for admission, even under any roof, but could not pre- 
vail. The man replied that all his out-buildings had been de- 
stroyed by a mob of freeholders, as standing on the waste. He 
seemed to be six feet high, strong built, and, by the sound of his 
voice, upward of fifty. 

" I could not, as my life was at stake, give up the contest, but 
thought, if I could once get under his roof, I should not be easily 
discharged. Though his manner was repelling as the rain, and 
his appearance horrid as the night, yet I would not part from 
him, but insensibly, at length, wormed myself in. I was now in a 
small room, dignified with the name of a house, totally dark ex- 
cept a glow of fire, which would barely have roasted a potato had 
it been deposited in the centre. In this dismal abode I heard two 
female voices — one that of an old aunt, the other of a young wife. 

" We all sat close to this handful of a fire, as every one must 
who sat in the room. We soon became familiarized by conversa- 
tion, and I found my host agreeable. He apologized for not hav- 
ing treated me with more civility ; he pitied my case, but had not 
conveniences for accommodation. Hints were now given for re- 
tiring to rest. ' I will thank you,' said I, ' for something to eat ; 
I have had nothing since morning, when I left Birmingham.' 
' We should have asked you to eat, but we have nothing in the 
house.' 'I shall be satisfied with any thing.' 'We have no eat- 
ables whatever, except some pease-porridge, which is rather thin 
— only pease and water, and which we are ashamed to offer.' 'It 
will be acceptable to a hungry man.' 

"He gave me to understand that he had buried a wife, by 
whom he had children grown up. Being inclined to marry again, 
he did not choose to venture upon a widow, for fear of marrying 
her debts ; he therefore had married a girl thirty years younger 
than himself, by whom he had two small children, then in bed. 
This I considered as an excuse for misconduct. 



296 SELF-MADE MEN. 

" While supper was warming — for hot it could not be — a light 
was necessary ; but, alas ! the premises afforded no candle. To 
supply the place, a leaf was torn from a shattered book, twisted 
round, kindled, and shook in the hand to improve the blaze. By 
this momentary light, I perceived the aunt, who sat opposite, had 
a hare-shorn lip, which, in the action of eating, so affected me 
that I was obliged to give up my supper. By another lighted 
leaf we marched up to bed. I could perceive the whole premises 
consisted of two rooms, house and chamber. In the latter was 
one bed and a pair of bedsteads. The husband, wife, aunt, and 
two children occupied the first, and the bedstead, whose head but- 
ted against their bedside, was appropriated for me. But now an- 
other difficulty arose: there were no bed-clothes to cover me. 
Upon diligent inquiry, nothing could be procured but the wife's 
petticoat, and I could learn that she robbed her own bed to sup- 
ply mine. I heard the rain patter upon the thatch during the 
night, and rejoiced it did not patter upon me. 

" By the light of the next morning I had a view of all the fam- 
ily faces except the aunt's, which was covered with a slouched 
hat. The husband seemed to have been formed in one of nature's 
largest and coarsest moulds. His hands retained the accumu- 
lated filth of the last three months, garnished with half a dozen 
scabs, both perhaps the result of idleness. The wife was young, 
handsome, ragged, and good-natured. 

" The whole household, I apprehend, could have cast a willing 
eye upon breakfast, but there seemed a small embarrassment in 
the expectants. The wife, however, went to her next neighbor's, 
about a mile, and in an hour returned with a jug of skimmed milk 
and a piece of a loaf, perhaps two pounds, both of which I have 
reason to believe were begged ; for money, I believe, was as scarce 
as candles. Having no fire, we ate it cold, and with a relish. 

" When I left the house, I saw the devastation made by the ri- 
oters, a horde of monsters I have since had reason to dread. My 
host went with me half a mile to bring me into something like a 
track, when I gave him a shake of the hand, a sixpence, and my 
sincere good wishes. We parted upon the most friendly terms. 
Though I seemingly received but little, yet a favor is great or 
small according to the need of the receiver. I had seen poverty 
in various shapes, but this was the most complete. There appear- 
ed, however, in that lowest degree, a considerable share of con- 



WILLIAM HUTTON. 297 

tent. The man might have married a widow and her debts with 
safety, for no creditor durst have sued him. Neither need he 
have dreaded a jail, except from the loss of liberty, for he would 
have risen in point of luxury. I have also seen various degrees 
of idleness, but none surpassed this. Those wants can not merit 
pity which idleness might, but will not prevent." 

In April Hutton commenced business in Birmingham, having 
rented half of a small store for the sum of one shilling per week. 
A stroke of luck placed him in possession of about two hundred 
weight of books, the refuse of a clergyman's library. This gen- 
tleman was benevolent and kind-hearted. He saw that Hutton 
was struggling with the world in an honorable way, and assisted 
him by letting him have the books at a nominal price, taking his 
note of hand as security even for this. The document was a cu- 
rious one, and read as follows : "I promise to pay to Ambrose 
Rudsdall one pound seven shillings when I am able. — William 
Hutton." His business prospects at first were of a very dismal 
kind, and, although naturally of a cheerful temper, he could not 
help being depressed by them ; but he never lost courage or neg- 
lected an opportunity. As the year progressed, his spirits rose ; 
he became known as a steady, persevering young man, and people 
liked to patronize him. At its close he had saved about twenty 
pounds, the result of great industry and frugality. The follow- 
ing year some of his friends induced him to take a house in a bet- 
ter location. Hutton was at first frightened at the rent, which 
amounted to the dreadful sum of eight pounds, but was finally 
persuaded. The speculation turned out an advantageous one; 
his customers were more numerous and of a better class ; so that, 
in the third year of his residence, he was able to boast that he had 
a smiling trade, to which he closely attended, and a happy set of 
acquaintances, whose society gave him pleasure. Under these 
circumstances, it was not remarkable that Hutton began to aspire 
to the comforts of a domestic circle of his own. He had made 
several attempts at housekeeping, but they all failed, owing to 
the indifference of domestics. Men's eyes get opened in this way, 
and it is astonishing how sharp they can look out for a wife. 
His first "courtings" were not eminently successful ; but after a 
while a neighbor sent for one of his nieces, Miss Susan Cock, a 
pretty and amiable woman. At the outset she did not seem to 
like Hutton, nor was he attracted by her. In process of time, 

N 2 



298 SELF-MADE MEN. 

however, the coldness in both disappeared, and " by Christmas," 
he says, " our hearts had united without efforts on either side. 
Time had given numberless opportunities of observing each oth- 
er's actions, and trying the tenor of conduct by the touchstone of 
prudence. Courtship is often a disguise. We had seen each oth- 
er when disguise was useless." Forty-one years later he wrote 
as follows : " Three months before her death, when she was so 
afflicted with an asthma that she could neither walk, stand, sit, 
nor lie, but while on a chair, I was obliged to support her head, 
I told her that she had never approached me without diffusing a 
ray of pleasure over the mind, except whenever any little disa- 
greement had happened between us. She replied, ' I can say more 
than that. You never appeared in my sight, even in anger, with- 
out the sight giving me pleasure.' I received the dear remark, 
as I now write it, with tears." 

Having saved two hundred pounds, he embarked in the paper 
trade (in connection with his own business), and, being the only 
one in the town, he found it extremely lucrative. He followed 
it for forty years, and, according to his own admission, acquired 
an ample fortune. This he risked in the manufacture of the ar- 
ticle ; but the knavery of those around him occasioned him much 
loss, and the enterprise was abandoned. Prosperity continued to 
crown his efforts ; he became richer and richer every day. Al- 
though strictly exact and economical, he was not in the slightest 
degree niggardly. He denied neither to himself or his family any 
comfort or amusement which they could enjoy without injury to 
their future welfare. 

Being a man of influence in the community, he was, of course, 
selected for parochial and civic honors, and, like most honest men 
who undertake public offices for the first time, endeavored to bring- 
about many reforms. These labors were not fruitful, and at 
length he retired from the contest in disgust, finding that it was 
impossible to stem the torrent of corruption. Previous to this he 
had frequently amused himself with writing verses, which occa- 
sionally found their way into the magazines ; but it was not till 
1780, when he was in his fifty-seventh year, that he thought of 
regularly appearing before the public in the character of an author. 
His first prose attempt was a History of Birmingham. It came 
out in 1782, was received favorably, and gained for the author the 
honor of being elected a member of the Scottish Antiquarian So- 
ciety. Encouraged by success, Huttqn continued his literary ca- 



WILLIAM HUTTON. 299 

reer, and between 1782 and 1808 produced thirteen other works, 
which issued from the press in the following order : Journey to 
London, 1784 ; The Court of Bequests, 1787 ; The Hundred 
Court, 1788 ; History of Blackpool, 1788 ; Battle of Bosworth 
Field, 1789 ; History of Derby, 1790 ; The Barbers, a poem, 
1793; Edgar and Elfrida, a poem, 1793; The Roman Wall, 
1801 ; Remarks upon North Wales, 1801 ; Tour to Scarborough, 
1803; Poems, chiefly tales, 1804; Trip to Coatham, 1808; and 
his "Life," a posthumous work, and the most excellent of all his 
productions. Many of his topographical and antiquarian works 
are remarkable for their exactness and research. They all dis- 
play considerable ability in the writer, and a pleasant vein of orig- 
inal geniality. His poetical productions were principally remark- 
able for their kindly feeling ; in other respects they are worthless. 
The prosperous condition in which he found himself enabled 
him to pursue his career as an author with attention and ease. 
His fortune progressed steadily. He possessed a country house 
of his own building, kept horses, and finally set up a carriage, 
and solaced himself and family with \isits to all places of inter- 
est. He possessed the happy faculty of enjoying to the full what 
he had earned, without launching into unnecessary extravagance. 
In 1791, however, a political storm arose, which for a time put 
an end to his tranquillity. It involved a general proscription of 
the Dissenters, to which sect Hutton belonged, and led to a series 
of mischievous and disgraceful riots. Mobs, of what kind soever, 
dislike rich men, and Hutton at once became an object of aver- 
sion, not only because he was rich, but because he was a Dissenter, 
and, as a commissioner of the Court of Requests, had been com- 
pelled to decide against many of the creatures who were now eag- 
er for his destruction. The result was as might be expected. 
They attacked his house, threw his furniture and extensive stock 
into the street, reduced the house to a mere skeleton, and made 
several attempts to set it on fire, which were fortunately frus- 
trated. On the following day they went to his country house at 
Bennett's Hill, in the vicinity of the town, made three bonfires 
of the furniture, and then gave the building to the flames. Hut- 
ton was not a man to quietly submit to injustice. He made an 
effort to resist the depredations of the mob ; but such was the 
consternation that prevailed among the respectable portion of the 
community that not a man could be got to stir in the matter. As 
his life was now more than ever in danger, he was prevailed upon 



300 



SELF-MADE MEN, 



to retire into the country for a time. He took lodgings at Sut- 
ton Coldfield ; but in the evening his landlady was seized with a 
panic, and begged him to quit, that her abode might not be de- 
stroyed. He was compelled to proceed with his family to Tam- 
worth, where they slept for the night, and then moved to Castle 
Bromwich, in order to be nearer Birmingham in case of danger. 
But even here he was pursued by the apprehensions of those 
around him. At night, some of the rioters having visited Castle 
Bromwich, the villagers were terrified, and advised him, for his 
safety's sake, to retreat to Stonnel. "I was avoided," he says, 
"asa pestilence. The waves of sorrow rolled over me, and beat 
me down with multiplied force ; every one came heavier than the 
last. My children were distressed ; my wife, through long afflic- 
tion, was ready to quit my own arms for those of death, and I 
myself reduced to the sad necessity of humbly begging a draught 
of water at a cottage ! What a reverse of situation ! How thin 
the barriers between affluence and poverty! By the smiles of the 
inhabitants of Birmingham I acquired a fortune ; by an astonish- 
ing defect in our police, I lost it. In the morning of the 15th I 
was a rich man ; in the evening I was ruined. At ten at night, 
on the 17th, I might have been found leaning upon a milestone 
upon Sutton Coldfield road, without food, without a home, with- 
out money, and, what is the last resort of the wretched, without 
hope." Shortly after this the military were called out, and the 
disturbances came to an end. On his return to Birmingham he 
was warmly welcomed by his friends, among whom were sixteen 
members of the Established Church, who placed their houses at 
his disposal; a mark of consideration which he esteemed as a 
proof that he was not looked on as a party man. But the per- 
secution of the Dissenters did not end with their temporary safe- 
ty. The leaders of the mob were put on trial ; but they were 
speedily released, and became more rampant than ever. Such 
was the prejudice which prevailed, that Hutton was actually un- 
able to obtain a home for himself and family, and was obliged to 
board and lodge at a tavern. He commenced a suit for damages 
sustained in the riot, and, after much vexatious litigation and ex- 
pense, obtained a verdict for about one third of the actual loss 
sustained. His expenses in the suit were nearly nine hundred 
pounds. Disgusted with this unfair treatment, he determined to 
retire from business (1793), and immediately resigned in favor of 
his son, amusing himself occasionally by assisting gratuitously in 



WILLIAM HUTTON. 301 

the management. The increasing infirmities of his wife also de- 
manded more of his attention. He has left us a very touching 
memorandum of the way he passed his time. " My practice," 
says he, " had long been to rise about five, and relieve the nurse 
of the night by holding the head of my dear love in my hand, 
with the elbow resting on the knee. At eight I walked to busi- 
ness at Birmingham, where I staid till four, when I returned. I 
nursed her till eight, amused myself with literary pursuits till ten, 
and then went to rest." Early in 1796 Mrs. Hutton was re- 
leased from her sufferings. Hutton was severely affected by the 
event, and to the day of his death cherished the warmest venera- 
tion for his unfortunate partner. 

In his seventy-eighth year Hutton achieved a remarkable feat 
of pedestrianism. He had long had a desire to examine the old 
Roman Wall, which was erected to keep off the savage barbarians 
of the north, and portions of which still remain. His daughter 
was going on a tour, and he determined to accompany her as 
far as Penrith, and then explore the Wall, while she went on to 
the Lakes. She was to ride ; but nothing could dissuade him 
from making all the journey on foot. From Penrith he pushed 
on, through Carlisle, to the Irish Sea, followed the line of wall 
to Wall's End, on the North Sea, and retraced it again to Car- 
lisle, having twice crossed the kingdom in one week. The jour- 
ney from and to Birmingham was six hundred and one miles, 
occupied thirty-five days, and was made under a burning July 
sun, when the ground was not cooled by a single drop of rain. 
He was so delighted with the journey, and performed it with such 
ease, that in the course of the following year he made excur- 
sions to the counties of Derby, Leicester, and Northampton ; ex- 
plored the beauties of Matlock, and wandered among the ruins of 
Fotheringay Castle. He describes the scenes and adventures of 
this trip with his usual pleasantness and geniality. The greatest 
wonder he met at Matlock, he says, was Phebe Brown. She was 
six feet six inches in height, thirty years of age, well proportion- 
ed, round-faced, and ruddy. "Her step is more manly than a 
man's, and can cover forty miles a day. Her common dress is a 
man's hat, coat, with a spencer over it, and men's shoes. As she 
is 'zmmarried, I believe she is a stranger to the breeches. She can 
lift one hundred weight in each hand, and carry fourteen score ; 
can sew, knit, cook, and spin, but hates them all, and every ac- 
companiment to the female character, that of modesty excepted. 



302 SELF-MADE MEN. 

A gentleman, at the New Bath, had recently treated her rudely. 
' She had a good mind to have knocked him down.' She assured 
me 'she never knew what fear was.' She gives no affront, but 
offers to fight any man who gives her one. If she never has 
fought, it is, perhaps, owing to the insulter having been a coward, 
for the man of courage would disdain to offer an insult to a fe- 
male. Phebe has strong sense, an excellent judgment, says smart 
things, and supports an easy freedom in all companies. Her 
voice is more than masculine — it is deep-toned. With the wind 
in her favor, she can send it a mile. She has neither beard nor 
prominence of breast. She undertakes any kind of manual labor, 
as holding the plow, driving a team, thatching the barn, using" the 
flail, etc. ; but her chief avocation is breaking horses, for which 
she charges a guinea a week each. She always rides without a 
saddle, is thought to be the best judge of a horse or cow in the 
country, and is frequently employed to purchase for others at the 
neighboring fairs. She is fond of Milton, Pope, and Shakspeare ; 
also of music ; is self-taught, and performs on several instru- 
ments, as the flute, violin, harpsichord, and supports the bass-viol 
in Matlock church. She is a marks-womcm, and carries the gun 
on her shoulder. She eats no beef and pork, and but little mut- 
ton. Her chief food is milk, which is also her drink, discarding 
wine, ale, and spirits." 

For several years Hutton preserved the vigor of his mind and 
body. He was always employed, and never allowed either the 
one or the other to get rusty. At the age of eighty-four he un- 
derwent an operation for cancer ; the wound healed up with ra- 
pidity, and a cure was effected. On his ninetieth birthday he 
walked ten miles, and to the last maintained his habit of pedes- 
trianism. On the 20th of September, 1815, he sank into his last 
sleep without a struggle or a groan. A more perfect and esti- 
mable character is not to be found in the annals of biography. 

Hutton's daughter described her father as a man of five feet 
six inches high, well made, strong, and active ; a little inclined to 
corpulency, which did not diminish till within four or five months 
of his death. From this period he gradually became thin. His 
countenance was expressive of sense, resolution, and calmness, 
though, when irritated or animated, he had a very keen eye. 
Such was the happy disposition of his mind, and such the firm 
texture of his body, that ninety-two years had scarcely the power 
to alter his features or make a wrinkle in his face. 




JOHN PAUL JONES. 

John Paul Jones, more familiarly known as Paul Jones, a 
Scotchman by birth, was born on the 6th of July, 1747, at a 
little place called Kirkbean. His father was a gardener, and 
Paul followed the same calling for a few early years of his life. 
It may be well in this place to mention that his proper name 
was simply John Paul. Events which will be narrated hereafter 
caused him to assume the name of Jones, by which he is so widely 
known. Being of an adventurous and sanguine disposition, he 
was not long content with the humble sphere in which Nature 
had cast him. The sea was his escape. At the age of twelve he 
crossed the Frith to Whitehaven, and entered into articles of ap- 
prenticeship with Mr. Younger, a merchant in the American trade. 
Soon after, he made his first voyage in the Friendship, of White- 
haven, bound to the Eappahannock. He was a very studious and 
valuable apprentice, and the excellent qualities he manifested rec- 
ommended him strongly to the house by whom he was engaged. 
All his spare time was devoted to the study of the profession he 
had selected, and the general cultivation of his mind. Before the 



304 SELF-MADE MEN. 

term of apprenticeship had expired, the house failed, and in a very 
generous way surrendered his indentures, instead of assigning or 
transferring them to some one else. Paul, thrown on his own 
resources, looked around for employment, and in a little while 
succeeded in getting an appointment as third mate of a vessel 
bound on a slaving voyage. In this service he subsequently rose 
to the rank of chief mate ; but, feeling disgust for the cruelties 
which it is feared are inevitable in the traffic, he relinquished it. 
In 1768, when returning from Jamaica to Scotland as a passen- 
ger, the master and mate of the brig were seized with sickness, 
and died of fever. In this extremity Paul assumed the command, 
and under his charge the vessel arrived safely in port. In return 
for this, the owners placed him on board the same vessel as mas- 
ter and supercargo for the next voyage to the West Indies. The 
voyage was successfully prosecuted, and the brig John (that was 
her name) started on a second voyage to the same regions. On 
the passage a difficulty arose between Paul and the carpenter of 
the ship, Mungo Maxwell by name, which resulted in the latter 
being tied up and flogged in the usual brutal style of the navy. 
The punishment was undoubtedly called for, but it was an unfor- 
tunate necessity. Maxwell left the ship, and soon after was seized 
with a fever, of which he died. There is no doubt now that the 
man owed his death entirely to the action of malignant disease, 
but at the time it was broadly asserted that the flogging had caused 
it, and in Scotland especially this cruel rumor was believed to the 
prejudice of Paul. The owners of the brig, however, gave him an 
honorable discharge when they dissolved partnership ; but, in spite 
of this, it is probable that he experienced difficulty in getting a new 
ship. 

In 1773 he went to Virginia, to arrange the affairs of a brother 
who had died there intestate and without children. He became 
possessed of the estate of this brother, and at once entered on the 
career of an agriculturist ; but, from incumbrances on the farm 
or other causes, he found it extremely difficult to gain a living, 
and when the war of the Revolution broke out, was, according to 
his own account, in great penury. Although he had only resided 
in the country for two years, he espoused its cause from the first, 
and tendered his services to the government. On the 2 2d of De- 
cember, 1775, he received a commission as lieutenant in the navy, 
and in this document his name first occurs as John Paul Jones, 



JOHN PAUL JONES. 305 

Why be added the last name to his patronymic we can only sur- 
mise ; he gives no reason himself. It is probable that he wished 
to efface some of the events of his early life for which he had be- 
come notorious, such, for instance, as the death of the carpenter, 
and a brief career on the Scottish coast as a smuggler. He might 
have felt that it was necessary for the preservation of discipline 
in any position he might acquire that these circumstances should 
be forgotten. 

At the end of the first voyage Paul Jones was promoted to the 
command of the Alfred, but was afterward superseded on the 14th 
of January, 1777 — probably on account of his being a foreigner. 
The Marine Committee, however, expressed regret that they had 
not a good ship vacant for him, and Congress expressed its satis- 
faction with his first cruise (in which he took several prizes, and 
inflicted serious injury on the enemy) by giving him, a few months 
later, the command of a new ship called the Ranger. On the 1st 
of November, 1777, he sailed from Portsmouth, bound for Nantes, 
in France. On the passage he made two prizes, in spite of a fleet 
of ten sail which gave him chase. He succeeded also in getting 
the American flag (which he was the first to hoist on an American 
ship) properly saluted by a foreign power. We copy his own ac- 
count of this event. " I am happy in having it in my power to 
congratulate you on my having seen the American flag for the 
first time recognized in the fullest and completest manner by the 
flag of France. I was off their bay on the 13th instant, and sent 
my boat in the next day to know if the admiral would return my 
salute. He answered that he would return to me, as the senior 
American Continental officer in Europe, the same salute which he 
was authorized by his court to return to an admiral of Plolland, 
or any other republic, which was four guns less than the salute 
given. I hesitated at this, for I had demanded gun for gun ; 
therefore I anchored in the entrance of the bay, at a distance 
from the French fleet ; but, after a very particular inquiry on the 
14th, finding that he had really told the truth, I was induced to 
accept of his offer, the more so as it was, in fact, an acknowledg- 
ment of American independence. The wind being contrary and 
blowing hard, it was after sunset before the Ranger got near enough 
to salute La Motte Piquet with thirteen guns, which he returned 
with nine. However, to put the matter beyond a doubt, I did not. 
suffer the Independence (a vessel of Jones's squadron) to salute till 



306 SELF-MADE MEN. 

next morning, when I sent the admiral word that I would sail 
through his fleet in the brig, and would salute him in open day. 
He was accordingly pleased, and returned the compliment also 
with nine guns." 

Paul Jones sailed from Nantes for the Irish and Scotch coasts. 
The course he had laid down for himself, and which proved so 
eminently successful, was to make sudden descents on unexpected 
spots, and, by striking a rapid succession of small blows, in this 
way to stupefy and confuse the enemy. One of the first places 
to which he paid some attention was the port of Whitehaven, 
where, it will be remembered, he had commenced his maritime 
career. It was his intention to set fire to all the shipping, and 
for this purpose he made a bold attempt with two boats and thirty- 
one men. He only succeeded in setting fire to one ship and in 
spiking a few guns. There was no fighting on either side. Jones's 
next attempt was to seize the person of the Earl of Stirling (in 
whose family he once lived), imagining that the possession of this 
nobleman's person might be useful when exchanges were made 
between the two countries. The earl being absent from home, 
he did not succeed in his base scheme ; his men, however, plunder- 
ed the house, Paul waiting outside, like an experienced burglar, 
while his men performed the dirty work. He became properly 
ashamed of this transaction, and, to his credit be it said, returned 
the plunder. 

These incursions alarmed the enemy, and a ship of war called 
the Drake was sent in pursuit of Jones. A regular engagement 
took place between them, and was kept up obstinately at close 
quarters for more than an hour. At length the British vessel 
surrendered. Her captain and first lieutenant were killed, and 
no fewer than forty-two of the ship's company were found to have 
been killed or wounded, while Jones, on his side, merely lost one 
officer, one seaman, and six wounded. The prize was carried in 
safety to Brest, and the hero of the fight became a great lion. 
He was not without his troubles, however ; money was scarce, 
and the men became dissatisfied. Jones, too, was ambitious and 
hasty ; he wanted to get into a larger ship, and took every oppor- 
tunity of magnifying his own importance, which was, of course, 
annoying to other officers. The lieutenant, in particular, was 
indignant, and his indignation aroused the resentment of Jones, 
who made all sorts of charges against him, demanded a court- 



JOHN PAUL JONES. 307 

martial, and did other intemperate things. The result was, that 
Jones's ship, the Ranger, was placed under charge of Lieutenant 
Simpson, and ordered back to America, and Jones himself was 
requested to remain in France, to be in readiness for some im- 
portant operations which were about to be undertaken. For five 
months he remained in a state of inactivity, employing his time 
mostly in indefatigable correspondence with every one who was 
in the slightest degree likely to forward his interests. He was 
an excellent letter-writer, clear, forcible, and persuasive ; but 
men in office are not easily moved by letters, even when they are 
written with the most masterly ability, and those of Jones's were 
without a result. One day, while fretting and fuming at the un- 
merited neglect with which he was treated by the French govern- 
ment — who, after having promised to furnish him with a vessel 
for the service of the American cause, displayed such unwilling- 
ness to do so — his eye fell on one of Poor Richard's proverbs. 
It was in Franklin's famous Pennsylvania Almanac, and was to 
this effect : "If you would have your business done, go ; if not, 
send." It occurred to him instantly that if, instead of writing 
letters, he were to proceed to the French capital, and spend time 
in personally advocating his claims, a better and more immediate 
result might be obtained. Without any farther delay he hurried 
to Paris, and not an official in that large city could call a moment 
his own until Jones's claims had been listened to. He hunted 
them like rabbits ; waited outside their holes, and pounced upon 
them the instant they put out their heads. No circumlocution- 
office could resist such direct and inveterate application. In a 
very few days Jones received a letter from the French minister, 
informing him that the ship Duras, of forty guns, was placed at 
his command. Paul Jones asked leave to change the name of 
the vessel, and, on obtaining it, rechristened the ship to the Bon 
Homme Richard, out of respect to Poor Richard's Almanac, which 
he imagined had first indicated the proper course to adopt to se- 
cure a result. 

In his first cruise, Jones conceived some bold designs against 
the enemy — such, for instance, as the meditated attack on the 
town and harbor of Leith, in Scotland ; but the squadron which 
was supposed to be under his command had a voice in the direc- 
tion of affairs, and interposed many obstacles in the way of the 
daring commander. On the coast of Scotland, however, he came 




308 SELF-MADE MEN. 

across the Baltic fleet of merchantmen, under the escort of En- 
glish war vessels. An engagement immediately ensued. Jones 
engaged the frigate Serapis, and, after a terrific struggle of three 
and a half hours, captured her. So obstinate was the struggle, 
that the men on either vessel knew not which had struck until 
the American flag decided the question. Both ships were com- 
pletely torn to pieces by the engagement, and the Bon Homme 
Richard leaked so fearfully that the next day she went down. 
Nothing but the determined bravery of Jones gave him this glo- 
rious victory, for the Serapis had more guns and threw more metal 
than the Poor Richard. In other respects she was more completely 
armed, could sail better, and was manned with a well-disciplined 
crew. To conquer such a vessel was sufficient to make any man 
famous. Paul Jones became at once the naval hero of the day, 
the terror of the seas. It was the principal achievement of his life, 
and was subsequently commemorated by Congress, who caused a 
medal to be struck in honor of the hero. 

Without entering into great, and, to most readers, uninterest- 
ing details of private history, it would be impossible to follow the 
career of Paul Jones. He employed his time usefully in the serv- 
ice of the Commonwealth, his desires being far ahead of the lim- 
ited means of the Congress, and his importunities, in consequence, 
extremely unpleasant. "When the independence of the United 
States became duly recognized, Paul Jones looked abroad for a 
new field of action. He received an invitation to join the Rus- 
sian fleet, with the rank of rear admiral, but was disappointed in 
obtaining command of the fleet. He served for some little time, 
but, becoming irritable and unduly vainglorious, he received per- 
mission to retire. To revenge this, he made efforts to change his 
flag — to go over to Russia's enemy, Sweden. Fortunately failing, 
he returned to Paris, where he remained for some time, prosecut- 
ing his claims for prize-money. Ill health, provoked by constant 
irritation, ensued, and on the 18th of July, 1792, he died, in com- 
parative poverty and obscurity. , 

Paul Jones was a man of unquestionable talent and courage ; 
he conducted all his operations with great boldness, and calcu- 
lated their chances of success with extreme nicety. He was, how- 
ever, of an unpleasant temper, easily irritated, and remarkably 
offensive to those beneath him. He was absurdly vain, not very 
truthful, and greedy of applause. From the first he appears to 



JOHN PAUL JONES. 309 

have entertained a great spite against Scotland, and he never re- 
turned to that country, where he was remembered with loathing 
and abhorrence. He had some relatives, however, with whom he 
corresponded, and also assisted pecuniarily. " The glaring defect 
of Paul Jones's character," says Mr. Mackenzie, in his Life, "and 
the foundation of many others, was his abounding vanity. This 
evinced itself in the stress which he laid on the honors he had re- 
ceived from kings and Congresses, and which, though not unmer- 
ited, were in no slight degree drawn forth by his own well-applied 
solicitation ; in the multiplication of his busts and medals ; and 
the constant recapitulation, with due exaggeration, of his various 
achievements. No hero, indeed, ever sounded his own trumpet 
more unremittingly or with a louder blast. This absorbing van- 
ity led him to claim for himself the whole glory of his victories. 
In all his elaborate reports of his engagements — except, indeed, 
during his Russian campaign, where the slight passed upon his 
officers became a reflection on himself — he is the hero, and the 
sole hero of his own tale. The only occasion on which he com- 
mends any of his officers is in small notes at the foot of each of 
their certificates, appended to his charges against Landais, and 
where his object is to give force to their testimony. It may be 
said, in excuse, that this vanity of distinction, which was the 
cause of his injustice in restraining him from giving credit to oth- 
ers, was also the exciting motive of his actions, by so powerfully 
stimulating him to excel. Still, his unwillingness to commend 
others, and award to each of his followers his just meed of praise, 
was a very great fault. A commander can have no more sacred 
duty than that which he owes in this respect to those who, even 
in the humblest stations, contribute to his glory." 



WILLIAM FALCONER 

This illustrious poet of the sea, a poet who possesses more fas- 
cination for the youthful mind than almost any other, was the 
son of a poor man at Edinburgh, Scotland, and was born about 
1736 or 1737. His father was, at various times, a barber, a 
maker of wigs, and a grocer, but, in spite of these numerous pro- 
fessions, he remained poor, and could barely struggle against the 
wants of the world. There were several children in the family, 
but, melancholy to relate, they were all deaf and dumb with the 
exception of William. The latter was a lumpish, heavy-looking 
lad, very careless and dirty in his dress, and was commonly ad- 
dressed by the mellifluous name of Bubly-hash Falconer. He re- 
ceived only a few weeks' schooling, and was then placed, reluct- 
antly on his part, on board a merchant vessel at Leith. Subse- 
quently he became second mate on a vessel employed in the Le- 
vant trade, and, while on a passage from Alexandria to Venice, 
was shipwrecked near Cape Colonne, on the coast of Greece. 
The exact date when this calamity happened is not known ; only 
three of the crew survived, among whom was Falconer. The 
event made such a powerful impression on his mind, that he gave 
it poetic shape and utterance in his remarkable poem of " The 
Shipwreck." 

In 1751 Falconer commenced his poetical career, although at 
that time a common sailor. He wrote an elegy, and a few mis- 
cellaneous poems, such as most young men compose, which ap- 
peared in the Gentleman's Magazine without creating any re- 
markable consternation in the literary world. In 1762 he pub- 
lished his poem of "The Shipwreck," dedicating it to the Duke 
of York, who, as an old salt, felt not a little proud of the work, 
coming as it did from an humble, untutored sailor. The poem 
attracted immediate attention, and was hugely commended in the 
Monthly Review. We quote a portion of the criticism : " The 
main subject of the poem is the loss of the ship Britannia, bound 
from Alexandria to Venice, which touched at the island of Can- 
dia, whence, proceeding on her voyage, she met with a violent 



WILLIAM FALCONEK. 311 

storm that drove her on the coasts of Greece, where she suffered 
shipwreck near Cape Colonne, three only of the crew being left 
alive. The ship putting to sea from the port of Candia, the poet 
takes an opportunity of making several beautiful marine descrip- 
tions, such as the prospect of the shore, a shoal of dolphins, a 
water-spout, the method of taking an azimuth, and working the 
ship. In the second canto, the ship having cleared the land, the 
storm begins, and with it the consultation of the pilots and oper- 
ations of the seamen, all which the poet has described with an 
amazing minuteness, and has found means to reduce the several 
technical terms of the marine into smooth and harmonious num- 
bers. Homer has been admired by some for reducing a catalogue 
of ships into tolerably flowing verse, but who, except a poetical 
sailor, the nursling of Apollo, educated by Neptune, would ever 
have thought of versifying his own sea language ? What other 
poet would ever have dreamed of reef-tackles, halliards, clew-gar- 
nets, buntlines, lashings, laniards, and fifty other terms equally 
obnoxious to the soft sing-song of modern poetasters ? 

" Many of his descriptions are not inferior to any thing in the 
.ZEneid, many passages in the third and fifth books of which our 
author has had in view. They have not suffered by his imitation, 
and his pilot appears to much greater advantage than the Palinu- 
rus of Virgil. Nor is the poet's talent confined to the description 
of inanimate scenes ; he relates and bewails the untimely fate of 
his companions in the most animated and pathetic strains. The 
close of the master's address to the seamen, in the time of their 
greatest danger, is noble and philosophical. It is impossible to 
read the circumstantial account of the unfortunate end of the 
ship's crew without being deeply affected by the tale, and charm- 
ed with the manner of the relation." Poets in our days labor in 
vain for praise like this. We may well ask ourselves if it was 
entirely deserved. Falconer's poem had unquestionable merit, 
not the least of which was its novelty. It has taken its place 
among the classics of English literature ; but to compare it with 
Virgil requires an effort of unscrupulous kindness not common in 
this degenerate age. 

In 1763 Falconer was appointed purser of the Glory frigate of 
32 guns. Soon after, he married a young lady of the name of 
Hicks, and lived with her in great harmony and happiness until 
the time of her death. When the Glory was laid up in ordinary, 



312 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



Falconer employed himself in the compilation of a valuable ma- 
rine dictionary (1769), and soon after adopted the profession of 
literature, with the usual conveniences — that is to say, a garret 
and debts. He struggled on, however, and at length was fortu- 
nate enough to receive a proposal from Mr. Murray, the booksel- 
ler, to join with him in taking Mr. Sandby's business, opposite St. 
Dunstan's Church, London. He did not accept this proposition, 
but the fact of its having been made shows that, at this time, he 
had at least one influential friend. 

In 1769 a third edition of the "Shipwreck" was called for, 
but before its publication the author had been appointed purser 
of the Aurora frigate (probably weary of literature), bound for 
India, and on the 30th of September he took his departure. The 
vessel was never heard of more. It has been supposed that she 
perished by fire, but the more general opinion seems to be that 
she foundered in the Mozambique Channel. Burns alludes to 
the event with feeling. " Falconer," says he, " the unfortunate 
author of the ' Shipwreck,' which you so much admire, is no more. 
After weathering the dreadful catastrophe he so feelingly describes 
in his poem, and after weathering so many hard gales of fortune, 
he went to the bottom with the Aurora frigate." In person, 
Falconer was about five feet two inches in height, of a thin, light 
make, with hard features, and a weather-beaten complexion. His 
hair was brown, and he was marked with the small-pox. In his 
common address, it is said, he was blunt and forbidding, but quick 
and fluent in conversation. His observation was keen, and his 
judgments acute and severe. His natural temper was cheerful, 
and he used to amuse his companions, the seamen, with acrostics 
which he made on their favorite nymphs. He was a good and 
skillful seaman. As for education, he assured Governor Hunter 
that it was confined to reading, English, and arithmetic. In his 
voyages he had picked up a little colloquial knowledge of Italian 
and Spanish, and such other languages as are spoken on the shores 
of the Mediterranean. That he was esteemed by his messmates 
is shown in a passage of a little work called the "Journal of a 
Seaman," written in 1755, and published by Murray in 1815. 
"How often," says the author, "have I wished to have the asso- 
ciate of my youth, Bill Falconer, with me, to explore these beau- 
ties, and to read them in his sweet poetry. But alas ! I parted 
with him in old England, never, perhaps, to meet more in this 



WILLIAM FALCONER. 313 

world. His may be a happier lot, led by a gentler star ; he may 
pass through this busy scene with more ease and tranquillity than 
has been the fortune of his humble friend Penrose." 

Falconer's reputation as a poet rests almost entirely on his 
poem of the "Shipwreck," and this, to be enjoyed, requires a 
young and ardent imagination, indifferent to faults of style and 
defects of measure, and intent merely on the stirring incidents of 
danger, which are depicted with unusual minuteness and force. 
The poem will always be popular, for the subject is one which 
possesses a never-failing interest. Considering the educational 
and social difficulties under which the author labored, it is a work 
of extraordinary power, and evinces poetic genius of a high and 
commanding order. 

O 




SIR HUMPHREY DAYY. 

One of the many sons of science to whom the world is largely- 
indebted, not only for philosophical disquisitions and great learn- 
ing, but for practical and useful inventions of every-day utility, is 
the illustrious gentleman whose name is at the head of this article. 
He belongs in an eminent degree to our series. With very few 
advantages of birth and education, he rose to eminence mainly 
through his own exertions. We shall trace his history chiefly 
from the loving memorials of his brother, Dr. John Davy. 

Sir Humphrey Davy was the eldest son of Robert and Grace 
Davy, and was born at Penzance, in Cornwall, on the 17th of 
December, 1778. He was a precocious child, and gave evidence 
of the possession of unusual faculties. When scarcely five years 
old he made rhymes, and recited them in the Christmas gambols, 
attired in some fanciful dress prepared for the occasion by a play- 
ful girl who was related to him. His disposition as a child was 
remarkably sweet and afFectionate. His father followed the pro- 
fession of a carver in wood, and, although not in affluent circum- 
stances, was able to send his son to the grammar-school of Truro, 



SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 315 

where he acquired a rudimental education. At the age of seven- 
teen he was apprenticed to an apothecary in Penzance, and, with 
none of the usual vacillation of youth, set about a complete course 
of study. The following memorandum, copied from a note -book 
of this year, will show that he was not afraid of hard work : 

PLAN OF STUDY. 

1. Theology, or Eeligion, ") (Taught by Nature, 
Ethics, or Moral Virtues,) (. " by Kevelation. 

2. Geography. 

3. My Profession: 

1. Botany; 

2. Pharmacy; 

3. Nosology; 

4. Anatomy; 

5. Surgery; 

6. Chemistry. 

4. Logic 

5. Language: 

1 . English ; 

2. French; 

3. Latin. 

4. Greek ; 

5. Italian ; 
C Spanish ; 

7. Hebrew. 

6. Physics : 

1 . The Doctrines and Properties of Natural Bodies ; 

2. Of the Operations of Nature ; 

3. Of the Doctrines of Fluids ; 

4. Of the Properties of organized Matter ; 

5. Of the Organization of Matter ; 

6. Simple Astronomy. 

7. Mechanics. 

8. Ehetoric and Oratory. 

9. History and Chronology. 
10. Mathematics. 

The study of chemistry, like that of mathematics, is irresistible 
to certain minds, and Davy soon found himself completely ab- 



316 



SELF-MADE MEN. 




sorbed in its pursuit. The activity and suggestiveness of his 
mind outstripped all formula. He entered upon speculations 
and inquiries far in advance of the rudiments he was studying. 
These, in due time, assumed a practical guise in the shape of es- 
says, and, being crude and imperfect, excited the ire of the re- 
viewers. " These critics," he writes, " perhaps do not understand 
that these experiments were made when I had studied chemistry 
only four months, when I had never seen a single experiment 
executed, and when all my information was derived from Nichol- 
son's Chemistry and Lavoisier's Elements." 

The early experiments of this philosopher were performed in a 
small bed-room in Mr. Tomkins's house, with a laboratory con- 
sisting of vials, wine-glasses, tea-cups, tobacco-pipes, and earthen 
crucibles ; his materials chiefly the mineral acids, the alkalies, 
and the other articles common to an apothecary's shop. He had 
no furnace, and, when he needed heat, was compelled to go into 
the kitchen, where you may rest assured the cook did not thank 
him for his devotion to science. Notwithstanding these draw- 
backs, he made rapid progress in the study of chemistry and the 
relative sciences, and before he had reached his twentieth year 
was remarkable for the exactness of his information on many 
learned subjects. He now left Penzance, having obtained the 
situation of superintendent of the Pneumatic Institution which 
had been established at Clifton for the purpose of trying the me- 
dicinal effects of various gases. Davy remained here for some 
time, and was quite enthusiastic about the prospects of curing 
disease by the use of various gases hitherto unknown to medicine. 
He describes his occupation as " useful to mankind; pursuits 
which promise me, at some future time, the honorable meed of 
the applause of enlightened men." This prophetic feeling of dis- 
tinction was soon about to be realized. The Royal Institution 
had been founded a short time previously, after a plan of Count 
Rumford's, for the purpose of diffusing a knowledge of science 
and of its application to the common purposes of life, and of ex- 
citing a taste for science among the higher ranks. In conse- 
quence of the expected retirement of the professor of chemistry, 
a successor was sought for, and the choice fell upon Davy. The 
duties on which he entered were those of assistant lecturer on 
chemistry and director of the laboratory ; but, according to the 
terms on which he accepted the situation, this was merely a tern- 



SIR HUMPHREY DAVY. 317 

porary arrangement, and to last only until he should deem him- 
self fit to fill the professor's chair. On the 31st of May, 1802, 
he was formally appointed to the office, and, notwithstanding his 
youth, immediately attracted the attention of the philosophical 
world. His lectures were eagerly attended by the distinguished 
in science, literature, and position. Compliments, invitations, and 
presents were showered upon him in abundance from all quarters ; 
his society was courted by all, and all appeared proud of his ac- 
quaintance. His youth, his simplicity, his natural eloquence, his 
happy illustrations, and well-conducted experiments, were the in- 
troductions which gave him welcome every where. In 1803 Davy 
was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society, and for ten sessions 
delighted the institution and enriched its Transactions with his 
lectures. His scientific labors during this time may be divided 
into two portions, the earlier one terminating with his great dis- 
covery of the decomposition of the fixed alkalies, the result and 
reward of his electro-chemical researches ; the latter in the re- 
establishment of the simple nature of chlorine. 

During the first portion of the period, among a great variety of 
objects of research, his attention was more particularly directed 
to the following : First, the investigation of astringent vegetables, 
in connection with the art of tanning ; secondly, the analysis of 
rocks and minerals, in connection with geology ; thirdly, the com- 
prehensive subject of agricultural chemistry ; and, fourthly, gal- 
vanism, and electro-chemical science. In the year 1812, unso- 
licited by Davy, the prince regent conferred on him the honor of 
knighthood. It was intended, doubtless, as a mark of respect to 
a man of unusual genius, and was so accepted. In those days 
men of genius were flattered by such little trifles. In these later 
times they despise them. A few days after this event Davy mar- 
ried a charming widow, Mrs. Appreece by name. Honors were 
showered on him ; this happiness he achieved. 

It is unnecessary and uninteresting in the present day to re- 
count the innumerable distinctions that were bestowed on Davy 
by the learned bodies of Europe ; to say when he was appointed 
a corresponding member of this society, and an honorary member 
of that. It is sufficient for our purpose that he was accepted and 
received as a man of mark in the scientific world, and to hasten 
to what he accomplished to give him this distinction. 

One of the fruits of his researches was the " safety-lamp," now 



318 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



familiar to every eye. The object which this simple instrument 
so happily accomplishes is the prevention of explosions of fire- 
damp in mines. From innumerable experiments, Davy found that 
this gas required to be mixed with a very large quantity of at- 
mospheric air to produce an explosion ; that it was the least read- 
ily combustible of all the inflammable gases, or required the high- 
est temperature, being neither exploded nor fired by red-hot char- 
coal or red-hot iron ; and, farther, that the heat it produced when 
inflamed was less than from any other inflammable gas, and, con- 
sequently, that the expansive effect from heat attending its ex- 
plosion was also less. He found that on mixing one part of car- 
bonic acid gas or fixed air with seven parts of an explosive mix- 
ture of fire-damp, or one part of azote with six parts, their power 
of exploding was destroyed. He found that in exploding a mix- 
ture in a glass tube of one fourth of an inch in diameter and a 
foot long, more than a second was required before the flame reach- 
ed from one end to the other ; and that in tubes of one seventh 
of an inch in diameter, explosive mixtures could not be fired when 
they opened into the atmosphere ; and that metallic tubes pre- 
vented explosion better than glass tubes. These were the facts 
from which the discovery of the safety-lamp was made. In rea- 
soning upon the various phenomena, it occurred to Davy that, as 
a considerable heat was required for the inflammation of the fire- 
damp, and as it produced, in burning, a comparatively small de- 
gree of heat, the effect of carbonic acid and azote, and of the sur- 
faces of small tubes in preventing its explosion, depended upon 
their cooling powers, upon their lowering the temperature of the 
exploding mixture so much that it was no longer sufficient for its 
continuous inflammation. Pie says, " This idea, which was con- 
firmed by various obvious considerations, led to an immediate re- 
sult — the possibility of constructing a lamp in which the cooling 
powers of the azote or carbonic acid formed by the combustion, 
or the cooling power of the apertures through which the air en- 
tered and made its exit, should prevent the communication of ex- 
plosion." The prosecution of this idea led to the invention of 
the safety-lamp — a cage of wire gauze, which actually made pris- 
oner the flame of the fire-damp, and in its prison consumed it ; 
and while it confined the dangerous explosive flame, it permitted 
air to pass and light to escape ; and though, from the combustion 
of the fire-damp, the cage might become red hot, yet still it acted 



SIK HUMPHREY DAVY. 319 

the part of a safety-lamp, and restrained the flaming element 
within its narrow bounds, simply by presenting a surface of net- 
work, the temperature of which, under ordinary circumstances, 
could not be raised sufficiently to explode the surrounding atmos- 
phere of fire-damp, or to allow the flame within to pass unextin- 
guished. 

Another useful and valuable discovery was made by Davy, 
namely, a method of preserving the copper sheathing of ships from 
the corrosive action of salt water. The principle of protection 
was found to be perfect, but in its practical application some diffi- 
culties arose which Davy did not live to obviate, although he made 
some valuable suggestions toward that end. Many other useful 
and eminently practical discoveries were made by Davy, especially 
in the tanning business, which in those days was carried on with 
hereditary rather than chemical skill. The experimental charac- 
ter of his mind led him naturally into new fields of investigation, 
and it is but justice to say that whatever he approached he ben- 
efited. Few men possessed a more practical yet thoroughly re- 
fined taste than Davy. Philosophers not unfrequently lose them- 
selves in the abstruseness of the subjects they investigate, but 
with him this was never the case. He was a man of the world ; 
keenly observant ; mindful of its wants, and anxious to lend all 
the force of his character and genius to the onward progress of 
civilization. He was of a contented and beautiful disposition, 
fond of innocent amusements, and especially delighted with the 
ever-varying aspects of nature. He had traveled much, and, at 
the time when death overtook him, was on the Continent, endeav- 
oring to regain in genial climes the health he had lost by too close 
application. It was during this time that he recomposed his de- 
lightful little book on fly-fishing, called " Salmonia," a work which 
justly ranks next to old Izaak Walton's for variety of informa- 
tion and charming picturesqueness of detail. Pie was also en- 
gaged on another work called " The Last Days of a Philosopher," 
since given to the world. He was a voluminous writer, and it 
may be doubted if any modern philosopher has contributed more 
largely to the literature of science than he. 

Sir Humphrey Davy died at Geneva on the 30th of May, 1829. 
He had only arrived in that city the day before, and having been 
attacked by apoplexy after he had gone to bed, expired at an early 
hour in the morning. 



EOBEET DODSLEY. 

"I knew Darteneuf well, for I was his footman." Such was 
the characteristic admission of the subject of this memoir, uttered 
to that severest of critics, Dr* Johnson, and at a time, too, when 
the name of Dodsley was a passport to much excellent society. 
An individual blessed with such strength of character presents 
many excellent traits worthy of imitation, and we give his biog- 
raphy as an essential element of self-made success. 

Robert Dodsley was born in 1703 at Mansfield, in Notting- 
hamshire. Nothing is known of his parents, except that they 
were poor, and unable to give him more than an ordinary rudi- 
mental education. Early in life he became a male servant, or 
footman, in the service of the Honorable Mr. Lowther, and con- 
tinued in that somewhat degrading employment for many years, 
wearing a livery, and exhibiting his calves in the most approved 
fashion of the day. He was steady and observant, and his nat- 
ural abilities gave him some little distinction beyond that awarded 
to his station. Having made some attempts at versification, he 
found patrons who induced him to publish them, and exerted 
themselves to procure a handsome list of subscribers. The title 
of this work, which was published in 1732, was, "The Muse in 
Livery. A Collection of Poems. By R>. Dodsley, Footman to a 
Person of Quality at Whitehall." The contents of the volume 
were not remarkable for poetic beauty -or for exactness of meas- 
ure, but, heralded in such a candid way, they attracted attention, 
and induced Dodsley to prepare another work for the press, called 
" The Toy Shop." This was a dramatic satire on the fashionable 
follies of the day, and had merit. Pope (to whom it was shown) 
expressed himself warmly in its favor, and exerted himself to get 
it brought out on the stage. In 1735 it was produced at Covent 
Garden Theatre, and at once achieved a signal success. 

There was now a fair prospect for Dodsley in the literary world. 
Many men have adopted the profession of letters with much smaller 
capital. But, although a poet, he was of a practical turn of mind, 
and could see that commerce was better than literature in a pe- 



EOBEKT DODSLEY. 321 

cuniary point of view. To combine the two was his ardent wish, 
and, with the profits of his play and other assistance, he determ- 
ined to do so. With this object in view, he opened a bookseller's 
store in Pall Mall, London (1735), and by politeness and atten- 
tion succeeded in making it a daily resort of the most eminent 
authors. Pope was his great literary patron, and his countenance 
was, of course, a powerful auxiliary. In a short time Dodsley 
became celebrated for the fairness of his dealings and the liberal- 
ity with which he conducted his business, and soon had the most 
famous and most prosperous publishing house in the British me- 
tropolis. Among the works of sterling merit which in the early 
part of his career he ushered into the world, was Johnson's "Lon- 
don," the copyright of which he purchased after several other 
houses had declined to have any thing to do with it. Nor was 
his own pen idle. In 1737 he produced "The King and the 
Miller of Mansfield," a farce founded on a traditionary story of 
English history. It was acted at Drury Lane, and was quite as 
successful as his first effort. In the following year he wrote a 
sequel to this piece, called " Sir John Cockle at Court," and sub- 
sequently two other pieces, all of which have been forgotten, and 
need not be mentioned here. In 1748 he collected these produc- 
tions into a volume with the unassuming title of "Trifles," add- 
ing to the number a pantomime on a new plan. He was fond of 
dramatic composition, and made it the vehicle for holding pleasant 
communion with the public. Beside his original compositions, 
Dodsley was engaged in planning and publishing many other 
works. It was he who suggested to Johnson the idea of an En- 
glish Dictionary. 

In 1750 Dodsley produced an original work, which was at 
once a source of profit and reputation to him. It was called 
" The Economy of Human Life," and professed to be a transla- 
tion from an Indian manuscript by an ancient Brahmin. For 
some reason, into which it is unnecessary to grope, the work was 
universally ascribed to the Earl of Chesterfield. It had a con- 
siderable share of merit, and enjoyed a wide reputation, having 
been translated in France by several publishers. Indeed, its repu- 
tation was so great that many imitations followed its advent, one 
of which boldly assumed to be a second part by the author of the 
first. In 1754 Dodsley tried his skill. in an elaborate poetical 
composition, the subject being Public Virtue. The public failed 

02 



322 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



to display a proper interest in virtue, and Dodsley satirically re- 
marked that it was not a subject to interest the age. In 1757 he 
published " Melpomene, or the Regions of Terror and Pity. An 
Ode." The poem contained some fine passages, and was success- 
ful. It is considered the best of his poems. In the following 
January he produced a tragedy called " Cleone," with applause. 
Bennet Langton relates that Dodsley one day began to read 
"Cleone" to Johnson, who displayed obvious signs of uneasiness. 
At the end of an act, however, he said, " Come, let's have some 
more ; let's go into the slaughter-house again, Lanky. But I am 
afraid there is more blood than brains." Yet he afterward said, 
" When I heard you read it, I thought higher of its powers of lan- 
guage ; when I read it myself, I was more sensible of its pathetic 
effect ;" and then he paid it a high compliment. "Sir," said he, 
" if Otway had written this play, no other of his pieces would 
have been remembered." This anecdote gives us a good insight 
into the very unequal character of Dodsley's writing, leaving the 
reader uncertain whether to condemn or to praise, but finding 
justification for either extreme. "Cleone" was the last of his 
poetical effusions. Having acquired a handsome fortune, Dods- 
ley retired from the active pursuit of business. A predisposition 
to gout was perhaps one of the reasons why he did so, for busi- 
ness was unquestionably pleasure with him. Of this disease he 
died on the 25th of September, 1764, in the 61st year of his age. 
He was buried in the Abbey Church of Durham, and the follow- 
ing just epitaph is inscribed on his tombstone : 

" If you have any respect for uncommon industry and merit, 
regard this place, in which are deposited the remains of Mr. 
Robert Dodsley, who, as an author, raised himself much above 
what could have been expected from one in his rank of life, and 
without a learned education ; and who, as a man, was scarce 
exceeded by any in integrity of heart, and purity of manners and 
conversation. He left this life for a better, September 25th, 1764, 
in the 61st year of his age." 




ANTONIO CANOVA. 

Antonio Canova, the most remarkable sculptor of modern 
times, whose works lend grace, beauty, and durability to the homes 
of the nineteenth century, was a native of Possagno, a village sit- 
uated at the foot of the Venetian Alps, where he was born in 
1757. He was descended from a family of sculptors, the arts 
descending from father to son in Italy like the titles of the privi- 
leged classes. His father had some little reputation, but young 
Antonio derived no advantage from it, for he was an orphan at 
the age of three years. A grandfather adopted the lonely boy, 
and gave him some instruction in the rudiments of art, employ- 
ing him in the quarries and in the workshop of the old stone- 
mason. His grandmother was most kind and affectionate, and 
neglected no opportunity of encouraging the lad. Not only for 
fame, but for fortune, she was desirous that her grandson should 
stride beyond the narrow limits of the stone-cutting room. At 
an early age he modeled in clay, and shaped little fragments of 
marble into easily-recognized objects. He was enthusiastic, and 
loved his adopted profession. Nothing afforded him so much de- 



324 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



light as being left alone with a few tools and a piece of marble. 
They were all the companions he needed. 

Progress was the necessity of such a disposition. So early as 
his ninth year young Canova could command the wages of a work- 
man, and was a favorite even at that. His grandfather was proud 
of him, and, whenever any repairs were to be done to the neigh- 
boring palaces, took the youthful journeyman with him. His re- 
markable talents were not long in attracting notice. A Signor 
Falieri, a gentleman of cultivated tastes, interested himself in the 
lad, and volunteered to take him into his house in order that he 
might enjoy advantages of an education which his grandfather's 
humble means utterly denied him. A story has been told that 
Canova first attracted the attention of the Falieri family by model- 
ing a lion in butter for that gentleman's table, but it is very ques- 
tionable if this story has any actual foundation in truth. 

After receiving some general instruction in the family of the 
Falieri, he was placed under Torretto, one of the best Venetian 
sculptors. He accompanied this distinguished artist to Venice, 
and remained under his tuition until the time of his death, which 
occurred two years later. By this event Canova was left with- 
out any guidance or restraint, at a moment, too, when both were 
most needed. His patron, Falieri, once more came to his assist- 
ance, and secured him admission into the studio of the sculptor 
Gio Ferrari, who was engaged at the time on a series of statues 
for the Casa Tiepolo at Carbonara. With this maestro Canova 
continued for about twelve months, and saw sufficient to convince 
him that the conventionalities of art were a restraint on genius, 
and impeded the natural suggestions of a poetic temperament. 
From these conventionalities he determined to cut loose, and ex- 
plore the wide and ever-remunerative paths of nature. His first 
known works were two baskets of fruit, still to be seen on the 
first landing-place of the Farsetti Palace, now the Hotel della 
Gran Brettagna, at Venice. The performance did not give prom- 
ise of that excellence which Canova afterward attained, but it was 
perhaps a step in the right direction. 

An effort of a more ambitious kind was the group called Or- 
pheus and Eurydice, part of which was completed, and the whole 
designed before his sixteenth year. This composition, executed 
in soft stone, was publicly exhibited in Venice on the occasion of 
the festival of the Ascension, and attracted considerable attention. 



ANTONIO CANOVA. 325 

The following year he executed the same subject in marble, hav- 
ing obtained his first important commission for that group. Much 
of his time was still occupied with studies. He divided his day 
into three parts : the morning he devoted to study in the Acad- 
emy or Galleries, the afternoon to the labor of the workshop, 
and the evening to the improvement of his mind in general knowl- 
edge. " I labored," he says in one of his letters, " for a mere pit- 
tance ; but it was sufficient ; it was the fruit of my own resolu- 
tion, and, as I then flattered myself, the foretaste of more honor- 
able rewards, for I never thought of wealth." 

Having thus obtained some popularity, and being still a favor- 
ite with his old patron Faliero, he found ready employment on 
busts. He also modeled his group of "Daedalus and Icarus," a 
work which may be said to have laid the foundation of his future 
fame, and which was immediately beneficial, inasmuch as it in- 
duced his patron to insist that he should repair to Rome, and in 
that ample theatre of the arts extend his studies and his fame 
at the same time. In October of the year 1779 Canova reached 
the Eternal City, and enjoyed the delicious sensations which all 
devotees must experience in that vast emporium of plastic mas- 
terpieces. He received a cordial welcome from the artists of 
the day, and was warmly praised for his " Dcedalus and Icarus" 
group, which he took with him as a specimen of what he could 
do. " On the first exhibition of this work," says his biographer, 
" he was surrounded by the most distinguished artists and critics 
then residing at Eome, who contemplated the group with silent 
astonishment, not daring to censure what, although at variance 
with the style then followed, commanded their admiration and re- 
vealed the brightest prospects. The embarrassment of the young 
artist was extreme, and he frequently spoke of it afterward as 
one of the most anxious moments of his life. From this state of 
anxiety he was, however, soon relieved by the almost unanimous 
approbation of the spectators. Even the critics praised — an ef- 
fort which they are not willing to make in the cause of medioc- 
rity. They saw in the production of the young man much sim- 
plicity, expression, and unaffected truth to nature. From that 
day Canova had a position among the highest. More than this, 
he received the kindly advice of the best critics and connoisseurs, 
and was able to detect errors in his own style which he was not 
too proud or too foolish to rectify." 



326 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



The Venetian embassador at Rome became an admirer and pa- 
tron of the sculptor. He placed at his command a block of fine 
marble, and suggested a subject for a group — Theseus, conqueror 
of the Minotaur. The work was conducted throughout in the 
palace of the embassador, and every kind of assistance was ren- 
dered to the artist. In this work Canova followed those true 
principles by which he had proposed to himself to be guided in 
his works — a composition by which a new path was opened to 
all productions of imitative art. The embassador, who watch- 
ed the progress of the work with true art enthusiasm, obtained 
a cast of the head of Theseus as soon as it was ready, and dis- 
played it to a party of artists and critics who were assembled in 
his house. He took the precaution not to inform them whence 
it came, and they uttered a profound opinion that it was of Gre- 
cian origin, varying, however, on some points of merit. Several 
thought they had seen the marble from which it had been taken, 
not being able to recollect exactly where it was. Delighted and 
flattered with the result of his experiment, the embassador led 
them into the studio of the artist, and placed them before the en- 
tire group. Their surprise was only exceeded by their admira- 
tion. They saw and acknowledged that a new era in art had 
commenced. 

Important employment was now not difficult to obtain. He re- 
ceived a commission to execute the monument of Pope Clement the 
Fourteenth for the church of the SS. Apostoli in Home. This fine 
work was exhibited in 1787, and established Canova's claim to the 
highest rank in his profession. Before it was completed, Can- 
ova had commenced Clement the Thirteenth's monument for St. 
Peter's, a splendid work of genius and executive skill. A story 
is told in Rome of Canova putting on a monk's dress and cowl, 
and in this disguise mixing with the crowd, to hear the criticisms 
that were made when the work was first exposed to public view. 

Canova's powers of imagination were superb, and in works de- 
manding their exercise he was unsurpassed. In the mere mechan- 
ical portions of his business he had many superiors. His busts 
were not considered remarkable. It is not strange, therefore, 
that he devoted himself to subjects requiring an exercise of the 
higher order of genius. To recapitulate the works which he 
produced in rapid succession would be tedious and unnecessary. 
Of statues and groups he executed forty ; of busts, eleven ; of 



ANTONIO CANOVA. 327 

monuments, sixteen ; of bas reliefs (principally in models), fifteen. 
Many of these productions were of colossal proportions, and most 
of them of the size of life. To accomplish so much, Canova ap- 
plied himself with unflagging industry to his vocation. In his 
habits he was regular and moderate. He rose early, and imme- 
diately proceeded to his studio, where he worked on his models 
for a time, and then proceeded with the chisel. In the mere 
manual labor of the sculptor Canova introduced some innova- 
tions, which account in a great measure for the multiplicity of 
his works. Up to this time it was customary for the artist to 
execute all his own work, from the rough hewing of the marble 
to the last touch of the chisel. Much valuable time was neces- 
sarily expended in the first operation without any commensurate 
result, for an ordinary stone-cutter was quite as capable of saw- 
ing off a piece of marble as Canova himself. It occurred to the 
latter, therefore, that, by making the models similar in size to the 
statues, he could employ a number of dexterous assistants, who 
would relieve him of all the mechanical drudgery of the business. 
He made the experiment, and succeeded. Every sculptor of the 
present day has his studio liberally supplied with assistants. 

Canova traveled, when young, over part of Germany, and was 
twice in Paris. At his last visit, when sent there by the Roman 
government to superintend the removal of the works of art which 
had been seized by the French army, and which the allies had 
decided should be restored to Italy, he proceeded to England, 
chiefly for the purpose of seeing the Elgin marbles, of which he 
expressed the highest admiration. His reception in that country 
was extremely cordial, and was a subject of much pleasure to him. 
On his return to Rome he received a patent of nobility, and was 
created Marquis of Ischia. With a republican feeling remarkable 
as it was creditable, he never adopted this title, but to the last 
called himself Antonio Canova — a far preferable name than the 
Marquis of Ischia in many people's estimation. It is worthy of 
remark in this connection, that one of Canova's best works was 
executed for America. It was the sitting statue of Washington, 
in marble, executed for the United States, and forwarded to 
America in 1820. 

In the month of May, 1822, Canova went to Naples to inspect 
some preparations for a colossal work, and returned to Rome with 
a tendency to disorder in his stomach, which was always badly 






328 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



affected by that climate. Not having entirely recovered from 
this attack, he determined on a visit to his native place, and on 
the 17th of September arrived at Possagno. Unfortunately, the 
journey was too severe for his constitution, and aggravated the 
complaint under which he labored. He was very ill on his ar- 
rival, but did not take to his bed, expecting relief from his na- 
tive air and the waters of Recodro. All was unavailing. On 
the 4th of October Canova arrived at Venice, intending to stay 
there a few days ; but, continuing to get gradually worse, he re- 
ceived the last offices of religion, and resigned himself to die with 
the utmost constancy and serenity, uttering only short sentences 
of a pious character to those who attended him. Approaching 
his end, he said to those who moistened his dying lips, " Good, 
very good; but it is in vain." His last words were, "Pure and 
lovely spirit." These he uttered several times just before he ex- 
pired. He spoke no more ; but his visage became, and continued 
for some time, highly radiant and expressive, as if his mind was 
absorbed in some sublime conception, creating powerful and un- 
usual emotions in all around him. 

Canova was a man of the most amiable and conciliatory man- 
ners, extremely friendly and gentle toward his fellow-artists, and 
encouraging and liberal toward the numerous students who filled 
his studio. To several of the latter, whose means were scanty, 
he gave pensions, to enable them to prosecute their studies. He 
also established out of his own purse a handsome premium for 
sculpture in the Academy of St. Luke at Rome, of which he was 
president. In personal appearance Canova was rather below the 
common stature, and toward the close of his life stooped as he 
walked. Plis features were strongly-marked, but well-formed, 
his nose aquiline, and his eyes deeply set and full of expression. 
The general expression of his countenance was genial and pleas- 
ing. 

Concerning the merit of his works, a competent critic remarks 
that, in execution and the whole treatment of his marble, Canova 
was unrivaled ; but those who judge of sculpture by the pure 
principles of Greek art (or, in other words, of nature, selected and 
exhibited in its finest and most approved forms), will discover in 
many of his works some affectation, both in the attitudes and 
expression, and a littleness in some of the details, which are not 
in accordance with the simplicity and breadth of style of the best 



ANTONIO CANOVA. 



329 



productions of the ancients. Admitting this to be the case (par- 
ticularly in some of his later performances), still his works evince 
so great a progress in art, and in many respects approach so much 
more nearly than those that had for a long period preceded them 
to the excellence of ancient sculpture, that Canova must be con- 
fessed to be one of the great regenerators of the art; and his name, 
as the restorer of a purer style of design, will always be held in 
honor by those who wish to see sculpture practiced upon true 
principles. 



PHILIP VAYRINGE. 

Mechanical genius of a high order is a gift so rare in the world, 
that the few men who have possessed it in an eminent degree are 
certainly worthy of remembrance. The subject of this sketch, 
although unknown in the present century, was in his day con- 
sidered remarkable enough to merit the appellation of the Lotha- 
ringian Archimedes. Philip Vayringe was a native of Lorraine, 
born in 1684 at Nouilloupont, a small village which is situated 
in the department of the Meuse, between Longwy and Verdun. 
He was one of a large family, and at an early age experienced 
harsh treatment from a step-mother, which induced him to run 
away from home. It was his intention on this occasion (he was 
ten years old, and could scarcely spell his name correctly) to 
make a pilgrimage to Rome ; but, before he got very far on his 
way, he met two of his schoolfellows, who prevailed on him to 
return to the paternal roof. Philip, however, became so enam- 
ored of the town of Metz, through which they passed, that he 
gave his companions the slip, and made up his mind to remain 
there. Strolling about the town, he was first attracted by the 
operations of a locksmith, who sat working at his bench near the 
open window. Observing the youth's curiosity, the artisan spoke 
to him, asked him some commonplace questions, and finally wound 
up by offering to take him into his employ at the liberal stipend 
of tenpence a month. Philip accepted the terms on condition 
that he should be allowed to try to make a lock. The permission 
was, of course, readily granted, and he succeeded so well that an 
addition was at once made to his wage. In six months he had 
become so familiar with the business that he found no difficulty 
in getting employment at three times the price paid him by his 
first master. 

In the following winter he returned to Nouilloupont, residing 
this time with a brother-in-law, who was at once a gunsmith and 
edge-tool maker. Philip was, of course, useful in such a shop, 
but a circumstance soon occurred which diverted his attention 
from the fabrication of locks. A clock was brought in to be re- 



PHILIP VAYRINGE. 331 

paired, and its delicate mechanism filled Philip with admiration. 
It was only left in the shop for an hour and a half, but in this 
short time he had fixed all the parts in his mind, and knew ex- 
actly on what principle it worked. A few months afterward he 
made a successful copy of this clock, much to the astonishment 
of the simple villagers. He was now determined to be a clock- 
maker, and, with twenty-five shillings in his purse, started for 
Nancy, the capital of Lorraine. There was but one clock-maker 
in the place, and, as he had three sons, there was no opening for 
Philip. He was fortunate, however, in finding a friend in a Pa- 
risian master locksmith and worker in iron, who had come to Nan- 
cy to fabricate a highly-ornamental gate for the choir of the Ben- 
edictine church. This person having shown him his designs, 
Philip requested that he would teach him how to draw similar 
ones with a pen, and carry them into execution. His kind friend 
immediately offered to take him into his employ at a salary of 
ten shillings a month, and to give him all the instruction in his 
power. He was thus employed for twelve months. In the mean 
time, he did not forget the subject of horology. His employer 
possessed the unusual treasure of a watch, so valuable in those 
days that it was actually the first Philip had seen. Anxious to 
penetrate the mystery of its intricate workings, he begged permis- 
sion to examine it. His request was complied with by his kind 
friend, who seemed to place implicit confidence in the ingenuity 
of the youth. Philip hurried home in triumph, and in no time 
had the watch to pieces, and discovered the object of all its move- 
ments, making drawings of those which he could not sufficiently 
remember. He succeeded in putting the fragments together again, 
and in restoring the watch to its owner in perfectly good condi- 
tion. The result of his various investigations was an extremely 
ingenious clock, which he made in his leisure moments, and for 
which he had to fabricate tools. It was nine inches in height and 
six in width, and had four different movements : hours, quarters, 
striking, and chimes. The chimes played an air every hour, 
while the image of the Savior, followed by the twelve apostles, 
passed across a gallery. Nearly a year was spent in forming this 
complicated piece of mechanism, but it brought him much renown, 
and, better still, was indirectly the means of procuring him a very 
advantageous wife, a charming young orphan of fourteen (he was 
twenty-seven), with two thousand dollars in cash. They lived 



332 



SELF-MADE MEN. 






long and happily together, and did the state some service by 
bringing into the world no fewer than nineteen children. 

About a year after his marriage he started in business on his 
own account. His shop was distinguished by a sign of his own 
invention, which, he tells us, was admired as a masterpiece. It 
was probably a piece of mechanism, but he has left us no descrip- 
tion of its character or appearance. Having borrowed some tools, 
he immediately set about making a watch, similar to the one he 
had borrowed from his Parisian friend and employer. He accom- 
plished his task successfully in eighteen days. Customers soon 
became numerous, but he found that a Parisian reputation was 
necessary, and he determined, therefore, to visit the capital of 
Prance. Furnished with letters of introduction to several of the 
most important watch - makers in the metropolis, he set out. 
Many men would have deemed a limited apprenticeship desirable 
under such circumstances, and Vayringe was of that opinion, but 
he limited the apprenticeship to one day; that is to say, he re- 
quested a person to whom he was recommended to allow him to 
work in his shop for a single day. He found out all he wanted 
in that time, and, having visited the shops of the most eminent 
watch-makers, purchased tools and materials, and amused him- 
self with contemplating the wonders of Versailles, he returned to 
his home after a fortnight's absence. 

The first thing he did on his return was to imitate the machin- 
ery he had seen in the workshops of Paris, adding many improve- 
ments of his own which were of obvious utility. His reputation 
was now established, and business pressed in upon him in the 
most satisfactory manner. With increased resources, he gave free 
rein to his invention, and indulged in the fabrication of many cu- 
rious machines not actually useful or actually useless. Among 
other things, he endeavored, like all ingenious men of his time, 
to solve the problem of perpetual motion. While thus occu- 
pied, he succeeded in making many very simple movements, and, 
"among others, those of an eight -day clock with only three 
wheels, and which nevertheless struck the hours and half hours, 
and repeated them, and, besides, indicated the revolution and the 
various phases of the moon." He finished, also, a watch which 
repeated the hours and quarters, though it had merely the wheels 
of a common watch. He worked likewise at all sorts of mathe- 
matical instruments, both for engineers and geographers. 



PHILIP VAYRINGE. 333 

In 1720 Vayringe was appointed watch-maker and mechanist 
to Duke Leopold of Lorraine, and removed from Nancy to Lune- 
ville, the capital of that province. Here he occupied himself not 
only with clocks and watches, but with astronomical instruments, 
and several models of hydraulic machines, the simplicity and pow- 
erful action of which were much praised. One of the models, 
that of a machine to throw five jets of water to a height of six- 
ty feet, was afterward carried into effect in the ducal gardens of 
Luneville. In the year 1721 Vayringe had occasion to visit the 
British metropolis on business for the duke, and became an in- 
mate in the house of the celebrated Desaguliers. This accidental 
circumstance was of great advantage to him, and he improved the 
occasion with avidity. Desaguliers taught him geometry and al- 
gebra, and explained minutely the properties and management of 
all the instruments and machines by which he himself illustrated 
his annual courses of experimental philosophy. More than this, 
he caused a similar apparatus to be made for Vayringe. After a 
residence of thirteen months in London he was recalled to Lune- 
ville. The duke was so delighted with the instruments he 
brought with him, that he gave Vayringe instructions to complete 
the set by making what were necessary for the full illustration 
of a complete course of philosophy. In pursuance of this order, 
Vayringe produced a variety of works, one of the most curious 
of which was a planisphere, on the Copernican system, " above 
which," says he, "the planets, supported by steel wires, perform- 
ed their courses, according to the calculations of the most cele- 
brated astronomers." This was, in fact, a kind of orrery, an in- 
strument which had been shown and explained to him by Desa- 
guliers during his visit to the English capital, and which was 
then new to the world of science. The duke was so astonished 
by this masterpiece of ingenuity that he considered it to be a 
worthy present for the emperor, and Vayringe was accordingly 
dispatched with it to Vienna. The emperor was equally delight- 
ed, and he rewarded the maker with a massy gold medal afld 
chain, and a purse containing two hundred ducats. 

On his return to Luneville he found M. de Boifranc, architect 
of the King of France, who was anxious for him to proceed to 
Paris to superintend the construction of a steam-engine for a 
mine in Peru. When this important job was finished, he returned 
to Luneville, and employed himself in the manufacture of many 



334 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



curious philosophical machines, especially an orrery. In 1729, 
Duke Leopold, his patron, died, and for a time some of his most 
extensive works were discontinued. In the following year Leo- 
pold's successor remodeled the Academy of Luneville, and ap- 
pointed Vayringe professor of experimental philosophy. His lec- 
tures immediately attracted much attention, and were, like Duval's 
in the same establishment, largely attended by foreigners. His 
popularity continued undiminished as long as the house of Lor- 
raine held the government of its hereditary dominions ; but in 
1737, political arrangements between France and the emperor 
transferred the duchy to Stanislaus, and eventually to France, 
and in exchange gave to the duke the sovereignty of Tuscany. 
Despots think nothing of " swopping" whole generations of men. 
"I was," says Vayringe, "soon a witness to the evacuation of 
Lorraine. I saw her highness the Duchess Regent, and the two 
august princesses, her daughters, tear themselves from their pal- 
ace, their faces bathed with tears, their hands raised toward 
heaven, and uttering cries expressive of the most violent grief. 
It would be utterly impossible to depict the consternation, the 
regrets, the sobs, and all the symptoms of despair to which the 
people gave way at the aspect of a scene which they considered 
as the last sigh of the country. It is almost inconceivable that 
hundreds of persons were not crushed under the wheels of the 
carriage, or trodden under the feet of the horses, in throwing 
themseves blindly as they did before the vehicles to retard their 
departure. While consternation, lamentations, horror, and con- 
fusion were reigning in Luneville, the inhabitants of the rural 
districts hurried in multitudes to the road by which the royal 
family was to pass, and, throwing themselves on their knees, 
stretched out their hands to them, and implored them not to 
abandon their people." Vayringe accompanied the duke to his 
future territories, although earnestly entreated to remain by the 
new sovereign of Lorraine. It was an unfortunate step for him. 
In Lorraine mechanical genius was appreciated and understood, 
but in Tuscany no one cared about such things. The Grand 
Duke did, indeed, continue his patronage to the artist, but his 
example was not followed by his court or his subjects. After a 
miserable sojourn of eight years in his new home, Vayringe wrote 
in the following melancholy vein : " I had figured to myself," he 
says, " that Tuscany having been, as it were, the cradle of gen- 



PHILIP VAYKINGE. 335 

uine experimental philosophy, a taste for that science would have 
been preserved, as in the time of the Galileos, Torricellis, and 
the Academy del' Cimento, and that, consequently, the lectures 
which I had delivered at Luneville would be still more attractive 
at Florence." But his conjectures were erroneous; he found the 
young men addicted to gallantry, the ladies to coquetry, and every 
one to triviality, not unmixed with sensuality. He published a 
syllabus of all the experiments he had made in Lorraine, but the 
Florentine public paid no attention to it, and it fell dead. "It 
is true," he writes, " that my being a foreigner contributed in no 
small degree to this indifference. I was given to understand that 
Italy, in all ages, had possessed the privilege of teaching other 
nations, and was not at all accustomed to take lessons from them. 
It may with truth be said that this miserable prejudice, together 
with the spirit of trifling and parsimony of which I have spoken, 
are the rocks on which the Academy of Lorraine has been wrecked. 
Transferred to Tuscany at an immense expense, and having the 
same professors who had rendered it so flourishing, it has there 
been wholly deserted. The school of experimental philosophy, 
one of the most curious and complete in Europe, has shared the 
same fate, though the cost of the lectures which were given there 
was reduced to less than half the sum that was paid at Luneville. 
Thus the talent for mechanics which Providence has bestowed on 
me has become totally useless as far as regards the public, in con- 
sequence of the indifference of my new fellow-citizens, and the 
state of inaction in which they have left me to stagnate." 

Circumstances of this depressing nature were too much for the 
sanguine temperament of an inventor, whose imagination, at the 
best of times, is too sensitive and warm. He became careless of 
himself, like all dissatisfied people, and felt disposed to brave all 
sorts of dangers. On one occasion he was indiscreet enough to 
expose himself to the deadly malaria of that pestiferous district 
called the Maremma. A slow fever was the result, which, after 
eighteen months' duration, ended in dropsy. He die<J under the 
effect of this latter disease on the 24th of March, 1746, and was 
buried in the Barnabite Church at Florence, where his monument 
may still be seen, erected by his friend Duval. " Probity, candor, 
and the most ingenuous simplicity," says Duval, " characterized 
his disposition, and they may be said to have beamed upon his 
countenance and in all his actions." 




NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 

The subject of this sketch was the son of a cooper, and was 
born at Salem, Massachusetts, March 26th, 1773. At an early 
age he had the misfortune to lose his mother, to whom, like most 
men of eminence, he owed much that was good and beautiful in 
his nature. He was only ten years of age when this happened, 
and previous to it had attended school for a short time. It is 
related that, even at this early day, he displayed a remarkable 
aptitude for figures, and intuitively performed arithmetical feats 
far in advance of his studies. 

When little more than ten years of age he was bound appren- 
tice to Messrs. Ropes & Hodges, who were ship-chandlers, and 
while in their service always kept a slate and pencil by his side, 
so that, when not engaged in serving customers, he could pursue 
his favorite study. Every moment that he could call his own 
was devoted to the same object. He rose early, and went to bed 
late, so that, by thus economizing his time, he was able to make 
considerable progress in the mathematics. The labor which he 
cheerfully undertook to make himself master of the subject was 












NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 337 

prodigious. Most of his books he borrowed from the Salem 
Athenaeum, and, in spite of dryness, copied them. The fruits 
of his diligence still exist in more than twenty folio and quarto 
volumes. He did not allow any thing to impede his progress. 
That he might read Newton's "Principia," he learned Latin, the 
tongue in which it is written, and so with the French language. 
AVith these two powerful auxiliaries, he translated the former 
elaborate work, and the extensive one of La Place. 

In a few years Mr. Bowditch became known as an extremely 
accomplished man of science, and was employed with another 
gentleman to make a thorough survey of the town of Salem. 
After this (1795) he was induced to undertake a voyage to the 
East Indies, under Captain Prince. The vessel returned after a 
year's absence, and Bowditch was so satisfied with the voyage 
that he made a second, third, and fourth with the same captain. 
The leisure which this occupation afforded him was doubtless one 
of its charms, for he was able not only to prosecute his mathe- 
matical studies, but to perfect himself in several languages, the 
French especially, and Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese to a great 
extent. His method of learning a language was peculiar. He 
obtained a New Testament in the desired language, and, with the 
aid of a Dictionary, worked through it. At the time of his death 
he possessed New Testaments in no fewer than twenty-five lan- 
guages, and Dictionaries of a still larger number. He was by no 
means stingy of his knowledge, but, knowing its advantage, tried 
to diffuse it. Among the sailors he was eminently popular, and 
made the ship a perfect school of learning. Slates and pencils 
were in great demand, and conversations like the following are 
recorded : " Well, Jack, what have you got V "I've got the sine." 
" That ain't right ; / say it's the cosine." According to Captain 
Prince, there were twelve men on board capable of working lunar 
observations for all practical purposes. Bowditch's habits at this 
time have been described very accurately by a companion. " His 
practice was to rise at a very early hour in the morning, and pur- 
sue his studies till breakfast ; immediately after which he walked 
rapidly for about half an hour, and then went below to his studies 
till half past eleven o'clock, when he returned, and walked till the 
hour at which he commenced his meridian observations. Then 
came dinner, after which he was engaged in his studies till five 
o'clock ; then he walked till tea-time, and after tea was at his 

P 



338 



SELF-MADE MEN. 




studies till nine o'clock in the evening. From this hour till half 
past ten o'clock he appeared to have banished all thoughts of 
study, and while walking he would converse in the most lively 
manner, giving us useful information, intermixed with amusing 
anecdotes and hearty laughs, making the time delightful to the 
officers who walked with him, and who had to quicken their pace 
to accompany him. Whenever the heavenly bodies were in proper 
distance to get the longitude, night or day, he was sure to make 
his observations once, and frequently twice in every twenty-four 
hours, always preferring to make them by the moon and stars, 
on account of his eyes. He was often seen on deck at other times 
walking rapidly, and apparently in deep thought ; and it was well 
understood by all on board that he was not to be disturbed, as 
we supposed he was solving some difficult problem ; and when he 
darted below, the conclusion was that he had got the idea. If 
he were in the fore part of the ship when the idea came to him, 
he would actually run to the cabin, and his countenance would 
give the expression that he had found a prize." 

The nicety of Bowditch's observations enabled him to detect 
many errors in the existing books on navigation, and especially 
one in which the year 1800 was set down as a leap-year. The 
immediate effect of this error, producing a difference of twenty- 
three miles in the reckoning, was to cause the loss of many vessels. 
The publisher of the work, hearing of Mr. Bowditch's corrections, 
applied to the young navigator for assistance, and at his suggestion 
the latter undertook the laborious task of revising all the tables. 
In this operation he discovered no fewer than ten thousand errors. 
Concerning some of these, Mr. Bowditch remarks that, although 
they would not seriously affect the result of any nautical calcula- 
tion, yet, since most of the tables were useful on other occasions 
where great accuracy was needed, it was not useless to have them 
corrected. Such a fabulous number of blunders have not been 
common since Bowditch's day. 

In 1802 Mr. Bowditch published his first edition of the " Prac- 
tical Navigator," a work of inestimable value to the maritime 
world, and which is still used to a great extent in the French and 
English navies. It gave the author a wide-spread reputation, 
and was no doubt instrumental in directing his attention to the 
publication of other scientific works. In part payment for his 
" Navigator," Bowditch received a copy of La Place's splendid 






NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 339 

Mecanique Celeste, a work with which our author's name became 
closelv associated. About this time he abandoned the sea as a 
profession. He had a reputation to rest on, and had been hon- 
ored by several learned societies. He was a member of the Amer- 
ican Academy of Arts and Sciences, and just before his last voy- 
age Harvard University conferred upon him the honorary degree 
of Master of Arts (1802). 

Soon after the close of his seafaring life, Mr. Bowditch was 
chosen president of the Essex Fire and Marine Insurance Corn- 
pan}^, in which office he remained nearly twenty years. Mainly 
owing to his good and practical management, the shareholders 
were able to secure large dividends on their investments. " For 
this situation," says one of his biographers, " his affability, regu- 
lar habits, sagacity, and strict integrity, no less than his great 
scientific attainments, remarkably fitted him. The duties he had 
to discharge were severe, and occupied most of his time, but his 
favorite studies were never neglected. He never went down to 
the office without a volume of mathematics in his pocket, and ev- 
ery moment that he was not engaged in business he pored over 
its contents. During his residence at Salem he contributed twen- 
ty-three papers to the several volumes of the Transactions of the 
American Academy of Arts and Sciences. Some of these were 
on mathematical subjects, but the majority were astronomical. 
On the preparation of these he expended an amount of labor 
which even an enthusiast may contemplate with wonder. On 
the subject of the orbit of the comet of 1811, the manuscript vol- 
ume containing his calculations (still in existence) was filled with 
one hundred and forty-four pages of closely- written figures, prob- 
ably exceeding a million in number. The article itself was but 
twelve pages in length. Mr. Bowditch was a contributor to the 
Monthly Anthology, the North American Review, Silliman's Jour- 
nal, the Analyst and Mathematical Diary. He also wrote several 
articles for the American edition of Rees' Cyclopedia. 

We have already referred to La Place's great work, Mecanique 
Celeste. Bowditch's admiration for this masterly production — 
describing the entire mechanism of the heavens on mathematical 
principles — was so complete that he determined on translating it, 
and accompanying it with a copious commentary. The varied 
accomplishments required for the latter task can only be under- 
stood by taking a comprehensive glance at the subjects treated 



340 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



by La Place. Some of them are as follows : The laws of equilib- 
rium and motion ; the law of universal gravitation, and the mo- 
tions of the centres of gravity of the heavenly bodies ; the figures 
of the heavenly bodies deduced theoretically, and then compared 
with the actual observations made of the figures of the earth and 
the planet Jupiter ; the oscillations of the sea and the atmos- 
phere ; the motions of the heavenly bodies about their own cen- 
tres of gravity ; the theory of the planetary motions, and their 
inequalities and perturbations ; the theory of comets ; light, and 
the theory of astronomical refractions, etc., etc. The work was 
declared by Professor Playfair to be an example " solitary in the 
history of human knowledge, of a theory entirely comjilete ; one 
that has not only accounted for all the phenomena that were 
known, but that has discovered many before unknown, which ob- 
servation has since recognized. To translate a work of this kind, 
and to write a commentary on it, was a task of prodigious labor, 
and required powers and attainments of the highest order." Dr. 
Bowditch used to say, "Whenever I meet in La Place with the 
words * Thus it plainly appears,' I am sure that hours, and per- 
haps days of hard study, will alone enable me to discover how it 
plainly appears." 

It was the object of the translator to elucidate the difficult 
demonstrations by supplying the deficient steps, and carrying the 
processes still farther, if necessary ; and to continue the work to 
the present time, so as to put the reader in full possession of all 
the recent "improvements and discoveries in mathematical sci- 
ence." He accomplished this truly Herculean task, and placed 
the great work before the public in a luminous and perfectly in- 
telligible shape. On almost every page the notes exceeded the 
text ; indeed, these have in themselves a value almost equal to 
the original matter. They are thoroughly critical, and examine 
the truth without any blind adherence to La Place's version of 
it. Some idea of the pains bestowed on the work may be formed 
from the fact that it was not published until twelve years after 
the translation was completed. It appeared at last — -four quarto 
volumes of a thousand pages each ; the fifth volume of the orig- 
inal work was never translated. 

In 1823 Dr. Bowditch (he was made a doctor by Harvard Uni- 
versity in 1816) accepted an engagement in Boston as actuary to 
the Massachusetts Hospital Life Insurance Company. On his 



NATHANIEL BOWDITCH. 341 

departure from Salem he received a public demonstration of re- 
gard and admiration, and in his new home was selected for many 
offices of distinction and trust. He remained in Boston to the 
time of his death, which occurred on the 16th of March, 1838, in 
the sixty-fifth year of his age. 

Dr. Bowditch was twice married, and left a widow, a devoted 
and admirable woman, who contributed in no small degree to the 
doctor's energy of purpose and ultimate fame. To her memory 
he dedicated the translation and commentary of La Place's great 
work. 

The doctor was a diligent man, and eminently methodical. He 
was able to accomplish great tasks with ease, mainly owing to 
these qualifications. He was always careful of his health, and 
never neglected taking a due amount of physical exercise. Men 
of studious habits are too apt to overlook the requirements of the 
body in their eagerness to cultivate the mind. He was the re- 
cipient of many honors and degrees. In 1806 he was elected 
Professor of Mathematics in Harvard University ; in 1818 he 
was requested by Mr. J efferson to take the same office in the Uni- 
versity of Virginia ; in 1820 Mr. Calhoun offered him the vacant 
professorship of Mathematics at West Point. The American 
Philosophical Society admitted him as a member in 1809; the 
Connecticut Academy of Arts and Sciences in 1813 ; the Liter- 
ary and Philosophical Society of New York in 1815 ; the Edin- 
burgh Royal Society in 1818 ; and the Royal Irish Society in 
1819. After the translation of La Place's work he was chosen a 
member of the Royal Astronomical Society of London, the Royal 
Academy of Palermo, and the Royal Academy of Berlin. 

Dr. Bowditch left a very valuable library, which is still pre- 
served unbroken, and placed at the disposal of the public by Dr. 
Bowditch's family in Boston. 



VALENTINE JAMEEAI DUVAL. 

Duval, whose history is perhaps the most romantic of any in 
this volume, was born at the little village of Artonnay, in Cham- 
pagne, some time in 1695. His parents were in an extreme state 
of poverty, and before he was ten years of age he had the misfor- 
tune to lose his father. To contribute in some small degree to 
the sustenance of bis mother's family now became an object of 
the utmost importance. On a neighboring farm he obtained the 
privilege of looking after the turkeys, for which he obtained a 
small remuneration. It was not till he was fourteen that Duval 
had an opportunity of obtaining the faintest rudiments of an edu- 
cation. He then learned the alphabet. When he was fourteen he 
ceased to be a watcher of turkeys, the agricultural distress which 
prevailed rendering it necessary for the farmers to pursue a system 
of the strictest economy. To add to the troubles of the period 
(1709), a winter of unprecedented severity set in. Such was its 
arctic rigor that the courts of justice were closed, the sacramental 
offices were suspended, from the impossibility of keeping fluid the 
wine which was used, and numbers of even the strongest trav- 
elers were struck dead upon the high roads. In such a cruel 
winter the poor were exposed to the most frightful hardships, 
and even those whose circumstances were not actually indigent 
experienced many pressing wants. Young Duval was unwilling 
to become a burden on his poor mother at such a season, and, 
friendless and helpless, went forth in the bitter wind to procure 
shelter and food among the villages and hamlets of Champagne. 
For several days he continued his dreary way, nearly frozen and 
famished, when suddenly he was attacked by an excruciating 
pain in the head. It was with the greatest difficulty that he 
struggled to a small farm-house which he observed in the dis- 
tance. Arrived there, he begged that he might be permitted to 
rest his limbs in an out-house. A female servant took compas- 
sion on him, and led him into a building where the sheep were 
kept. In the morning the farmer discovered the poor boy in a 
most deplorable condition. He was in a burning fever, and angry 



VALENTINE JAMERAI DUVAL. 343 

pustules had made their appearance on different parts of his body. 
The farmer knew the symptoms, and bluntly declared that Duval 
was laboring under an attack of small-pox, assuring him also, by 
way of consolation, that it would infallibly kill him. Although 
rough and uncultivated, he was a good-hearted man, and did more 
for the little patient than might have been expected, considering 
the fearful nature of the disease, and the alarm it is apt to occa- 
sion. He procured a bundle of rags, stripped oif the boy's cloth- 
ing, and wrapped him up in the rags like a mummy. Having 
done this, he took oif several layers of dung from a heap, and in 
the warm place thus created made a purely agricultural bed, 
placed the patient on it, strewed chaff on him, covered him up to 
the neck with the layers which he had taken off, and then con- 
cluded by making the sign of the cross on the boy, whom he rec- 
omended to God and the saints, believing that it would be little 
else than a miracle if he escaped death. 

Duval's biographer thinks that, rude as were the bed and the 
chamber where the youth lay, they were perhaps more beneficial 
to him than any he could have found in the farmer's humble abode. 
The fermenting of the dung and the breath of a flock of sheep 
diffused a warmth which he would nofr elsewhere have enjoyed, 
and which brought on a profuse perspiration. The virus of the 
disease was thrown out to the surface instead of being repelled 
into the vital parts. While he was lying helpless, he was exposed 
to one annoyance from his fellow-lodgers. The sheep would lick 
his face. He did his best, he says, to avoid these cruel caresses, 
less on his own account than in the fear that the poison with 
which he was covered might be hurtful to the poor sheep. He 
did not then know that the poison of the small-pox is reserved 
for the human family alone. He was exposed to other troubles 
even more dangerous. The place in which he Was sheltered was 
overhung with large trees. Often in the dead of night he was 
aroused by loud reports as of cannon or thunder. When he in- 
quired what had occasioned these strange sounds, he was informed 
that the intensity of the frost had rent many of the trees to the 
roots, and caused them to " go off" in the way mentioned, scat- 
tering huge fragments on the place where lay the poor boy. The 
crisis passed, he slowly recovered, receiving to the last all the 
little attentions which his kindly host could bestow on him. In- 
expensive as was his food and lodging, they were more than the 



344 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



impoverished farmer could bear. When he had sufficiently re- 
covered, he was reluctantly compelled to tell his guest that he 
could no longer support him. He, however, found him a tem- 
porary asylum by applying to the parish priest, and with this 
functionary Duval remained until the extreme severity of the 
weather had abated, and his health was completely restored. It 
was then hinted that he must provide for himself. 

Past sufferings had taught him that one of the greatest calami- 
ities a poor man could encounter was cold. When he left the 
priest's house, he asked in what direction were warmer lands, 
and being told that to the east the sun exercised more power, he 
resolved to bend his course to the eastward. His ideas concern- 
ing the earth and the sun were of the most primitive kind ; the 
former he believed to be a plane, bounded by the horizon and sup- 
porting the heavens ; the latter, which he had always seen repre- 
sented with a human face, was an animated and intelligent being, 
moving at a small distance from the ground, and dispensing light 
and heat. With these ideas in his mind, and with the most gen- 
erous and appreciative feelings toward the sun, he took his de- 
parture in an easterly direction. He passed through districts 
stricken with famine and oppressed with the most horrible pov- 
erty — districts in which it was mockery to ask for charity, and 
which could yield nothing but herbs and roots for the hungered 
boy. When he reached the boiling springs of Bourbonne les 
Bains, the spectacle of hot water issuing from a cold earth so 
alarmed him that he seriously believed he was in the vicinity of 
the infernal regions, and fled the town with precipitation. 

In the flourishing duchy of Lorraine, the scene changed as if 
by magic ; the people were well clad, and of cheerful, healthy 
countenances ; the houses were commodious and solidly built, 
and the soil was carefully tilled and richly productive. Charmed 
with these external indications of prosperity, and with the beauty 
of the country, Duval wished to stay in a land so genial and happy. 
He succeeded in obtaining a situation as a shepherd-boy, and for 
two years pursued that pastoral life. During the time he made 
the acquaintance of a hermit named Brother Palemon, who lived 
at the hermitage of La Rochelle. With this recluse Duval now 
took up his residence, assisting him in his rural labors, and mak- 
ing himself generally useful. Palemon was a kind-hearted, devout 
man, who respected God's gifts to man. In a very little time he 



VALENTINE JAMERAI DUVAL. 345 

discovered that Duval was blessed with a mind which craved 
knowledge and could digest it. He encouraged and assisted 
him. and placed him on the road to fame by imparting to him 
the rudiments of an education. At the end of twelve months 
Duval was forced to leave this worthy old man, the superiors 
of his order having sent another brother to reside with him in 
Duval's place. Palemon parted from the youth with regret, and 
gave him a letter of introduction to the hermits of St. Anne, 
whither he proceeded. 

The hermits of St. Anne were four in number, aged men, of 
virtuous hearts and kind dispositions, indulgent to others, austere 
only to themselves. Their subsistence and the means of dispens- 
ing charity were derived from the cultivation of twelve acres of 
land, partly planted with fruit-trees, and from six cows. In the 
management of their farm it was thought that Duval might find 
some kind of employment, and he was not disappointed. His 
opportunities for obtaining knowledge were thus preserved. One 
of the hermits undertook to teach him to read, and from a book 
which he found in the hermitage he obtained a smattering of 
arithmetic. His chief employment was not intellectual, tending 
cattle in the woods, but it was favorable to the reflective disposi- 
tion of Duval. From the earliest days astronomy has been in- 
debted to shepherd-boys for much of its just interpretation. Du- 
val's mind soon became deeply interested in the contemplation of 
the heavens. He had seen in almanacs that on such a day the 
sun would enter the sign of the Earn or the Bull, and imagining 
that there must be some clusters of stars resembling those ani- 
mals, he began to look for them. He constructed a rude observ- 
atory in the forest on the top of the tallest oak he could find, but 
his untutored eyes gazed on the starry field without result. He 
was about to give up his astronomical inquiries in despair, when 
a lucky chance put him on the right road. He was fortunate 
enough to procure half a dozen maps of the constellations, the 
world, and the four quarters of the globe. With these he soon 
learned the relative places of the constellations ; but, to render 
this knowledge useful, he had yet to find out a fixed point in the 
heavens to serve as a basis for his proceedings. He had heard it 
said that the polar star was the only star of our hemisphere which 
had no apparent motion ; but where to find this star ? His first 
plan was to pick out a star of the proper magnitude, and then 

P 2 



346 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



bore a hole immediately opposite it to observe if it changed its 
position. He next hollowed out a piece of elder so as to make 
a tolerably straight tube, and, suspending this rude telescope to a 
branch of a tree, made observations through it until he discover- 
ed the exact position of the polar star. It was now easy for him, 
with the aid of his map, to become acquainted with all the prin- 
cipal stellar groups of the northern hemisphere. The immensity 
into which he thus penetrated filled him with awe and surprise 
to such an extent that for a time he was compelled to desist, lest 
his reason should be overthrown. From the study of the skies 
Duval turned to the study of the earth, and thus brought into 
use the remaining maps of his collection. He was a long time 
before he could understand the various lines and figures which 
are so important in works of this kind ; but a friend loaned him 
an Introduction to Geography, and by the help of this guide, 
and perpetual reference to his maps, which he always took out 
with him, he made such rapid advances that " the knowledge of 
the globe became almost as familiar to him as that of the forest 
of St. Anne." 

The appetite for knowledge was now thoroughly aroused. All 
his scanty means were devoted to the purchase of books, and he 
devised means to add to his available funds for this purpose. He 
set snares for the wild animals, and sold their skins to a furrier 
at Luneville, and he caught birds, which, he says, contributed to 
his instruction by the loss of their liberty. Hares, too, would 
occasionally come in his way, although they were not allowed to 
do so by law. In these hunting excursions he was often exposed 
to danger, and on one occasion a wild-cat fixed her teeth and tal- 
ons so deeply in his head that it was with the greatest difficulty 
he could release himself and dispatch the brute. He did not 
regret the wounds, for the skin brought a good price. In a few 
months he amassed a small fortune of thirty or forty crowns, 
and with a joyful heart carried his treasure to Nancy to purchase 
books. Of their value he knew nothing, but he had confidence 
in human honesty, and, when he entered the shop, said to the 
bookseller, " You will have the goodness not to charge me too 
much, for I am very poor, and want to get all the books I can." 
There was only one bookseller in Nancy who did not cheat him ; 
all the others took advantage of his simplicity. The honest trades- 
man supplied him on equitable terms, and even gave him credit 



VALENTINE JAMERAI DUVAL. 347 

for twenty shillings' worth of goods. When, in after years, Duval 
asked this worthy man why he was induced to place so much con- 
fidence in a stranger, he replied, "Your countenance and your love 
of study. I saw in your face that you would not deceive me." 
Honesty met with its reward, for Duval procured for this worthy 
man the appointment of bookseller to the Duke of Lorraine. 

He had now a few books which he studied devoutly. An inci- 
dent occurred which enabled him to greatly add to their number. 
Strolling in the forest one day, he observed some shining article 
lying on the ground. It proved to be a gold seal of curious work- 
manship, evidently dropped by accident. On the following Sun- 
day he caused the priest at Luneville to announce publicly that 
this article was in his possession, so that the owner might apply 
for it. A few weeks afterward a gentleman on horseback came 
to the hermitage, and desired to speak with him. He was an 
Englishman, and bluntly stated that the seal was his. "Very 
good, sir," replied Duval; "but, before I give it up to you, I 
must request that you will blazon the arms which are engraved 
on it." The Englishman laughed at the idea of such a rough- 
looking customer knowing any thing of heraldry. Duval, who 
had made himself master of the science by reading one of Mene- 
shier's works, coolly answered, " You may think what you please, 
but the ring does not go out of my possession until you have regu- 
larly described the coat of arms." The Englishman, whose name 
was Foster, put various questions to him, and, finding that the 
youth was well-informed, gave the Correct heraldic description, 
and, of course, obtained the seal. Duval was rewarded with a 
couple of Louis d'or, and Foster was so much pleased with the 
lad, that, so long as he remained in Lorraine, he had him to break- 
fast on every holiday morning, made him a present of five shillings 
each time, and gave him much good counsel as to the choice of 
books and maps, and the method of studying to advantage. His 
library prospered exceedingly under these circumstances, and 
numbered nearly four hundred volumes, all of which were exten- 
sively thumbed. His devotion to study at length excited the 
alarm of one of the hermits, Father Anthony, who gravely ex- 
horted him to renounce all human science, and content himself 
with the life of a devout recluse. Duval, of course, paid no atten- 
tion to this advice, and Brother Anthony, interpreting his obsti- 
nacy by the blue light of superstition, began to suspect that his 



348 SELF-MADE MEN. 

studies were of an extremely improper character, and determined 
to find out what they were. Pie took advantage of the youth's 
absence to enter his chamber, and the sight he beheld, papers 
scrawled with geometrical signs, and curious instruments glitter- 
ing in the sunshine, confirmed him in all his worst suspicions. 
He was certain now that young Duval was on the high road to 
perdition, and in direct communication with the Prince of Dark- 
ness. Full of this idea, he hurried off to his confessor, and told 
such a frightful story that the confessor felt it a religious duty to 
visit the youth. When he discovered the true state of the case, 
he laughed at Brother Anthony, and encouraged the young man 
to persevere in his studies. Brother Anthony took the matter 
much to heart, and, like all ignorant men, felt incensed that 
things were taking place beneath his nose which he could not 
understand. His anger broke out at last, and he threatened 
Duval that he would take away his books and tear up his maps. 
The threat roused Duval, and he defied the brother. The hermit 
advanced toward him, apparently intending to give him a box on 
the ear. Still more enraged by this threatening gesture, Duval 
seized a fire-shovel, and brandished it over the head of the aston- 
ished hermit. He took to his heels, and Duval secured the door 
of his chamber, prepared for the worst. The clamor and excite- 
ment had drawn all the brothers to the garden, and there they 
stood beneath Duval's window waiting for a parley. Duval ad- 
dressed the superior, who listened to him patiently, and then im- 
partially blamed Brother Anthony for his blind zeal, and Duval 
for having allowed his irritated feelings to obtain the mastery. 
A capitulation was dictated by Duval, and agreed to by the 
brothers. He required an amnesty for his indecorous burst of 
rage, and to be allowed two hours daily for his studies, except at 
seed, harvest, and vintage times ; in return for which he would 
willingly serve them during ten years, "with all imaginable zeal 
and affection," and expect nothing more for his services than food 
and clothing. These terms were acceded to, and on the following 
day Duval had the agreement regularly drawn up by a lawyer, 
and signed by all the contracting parties. 

He was not destined to fulfill his portion of this contract. On 
the 13th of May, 1717, he was tending cattle in the forest, and 
beguiling the time with his favorite study of geography. While 
busily employed with his maps and books, a gentleman approached 






VALENTINE JAMERAI DUVAL. 349 

him, and inquired what he was doing. "I am studying geogra- 
phy, and finding out the shortest way to Quebec." "For what 
reason ?" " That I may travel thither, and continue my studies 
in the University of that city, which, I am told, is well conducted." 
" But," replied the stranger, " what necessity is there for you to 
travel to the other end of the world, when there are Universities 
at hand which are equally good as that of Quebec ?" In the midst 
of this dialogue they were joined by two youths, another gentle- 
man, and a train of attendants. The youths were the Princes of 
Lorraine ; the gentlemen were the Baron de Pfutschner and the 
Count de Vidampierre, the latter of whom was the person who 
had been talking to the rustic of St. Anne's. It reads like the 
scene of a play, but it was no fiction, as he soon found out. The 
baron volunteered to place Duval in the Jesuits' College, but this 
offer was rejected. In a few days he returned to say that the 
duke would take Duval under his protection, and furnish him 
with the means of pursuing his studies. This was, of course, too 
desirable an opportunity to be neglected. He closed with the 
offer, and was immediately conveyed to the court at Luneville, 
where his literary acquirements excited much curiosity. From 
Luneville he removed to Pont-a-Mousson, where he recommenced 
his untiring search for knowledge. Geography, history, and an- 
tiquities were his favorite subjects of inquiry, but he neglected 
nothing. Working on a methodical plan, and with judicious ad- 
visers to guide his steps, he added greatly to his stock of ideas. 
It is curious to note how strangely mingled with gross ignorance 
were his best accomplishments. Thus it is related that he was 
smitten with a violent passion for a beautiful female, which so 
tormented him that he ate a large quantity of hemlock to allay it, 
that being the nostrum recommended by St. Jerome as an antidote 
to love. He suffered severely from this act of imprudence, and, 
indeed, came near losing his life by it. 

Toward the close of the year 1718 the Duke of Lorraine visited 
Paris, and in his suite was Duval. During his stay at this place 
the latter paid a visit to the Opera-house, and witnessed the repre- 
sentation of Quinault's opera of " Isis." The effect produced upon 
his mind by the music, scenery, and acting was so powerful, that 
for several days he could think of nothing else. Such wholeness 
and completeness seemed little else than magical, and {he memory 
of it deprived him of the power of eating and sleeping. After 



350 SELF-MADE MEN. 

leaving Paris he visited the Netherlands and Holland, returning 
to Luneville late in the following year. The duke now appointed 
him his librarian, but the post was one of honor rather than profit, 
for the duke was wretchedly poor. On the death of Leopold in 
1729, his successor, Francis Stephen, made an addition of two 
hundred livres to Duval's stipend, and, what was even better, 
paid it punctually. Soon after he bestowed on him the appoint- 
ment of professor of history, antiquities, and ancient and modern 
geography in the Academy of Luneville. It was with difficulty 
that Duval was induced to accept this appointment. He yielded 
at last, and set strenuously to work to make his lectures worthy 
of approbation, and with such decided success that in a little 
while he had so many private pupils that he could count on a 
clear annual gain of four thousand livres. Among his hearers 
was William Pitt, afterward Earl of Chatham, then a youth 
upon his travels, but who displayed such talents that his future 
greatness was more than once predicted by Duval. 

Duval's simple habits enabled him to amass a considerable for- 
tune out of his income, and the first use he made of it was to dis- 
charge what he considered a debt of gratitude. He rebuilt, in a 
handsome style, the hermitage of St. Anne, and added to it a chapel 
and an extensive piece of land. Part of this land he directed to 
be laid out as a nursery for fruit-trees of the best kind. For this 
benefit, the only return that he required was that the hermits 
should gratuitously supply the neighborhood for three leagues 
round with the produce of the nursery, and should go themselves 
to plant the trees whenever their assistance was wanted. Dur- 
ing the remainder of his life he displayed the same interest in the 
hermitage, regarding it as the gateway through which he had 
passed to fortune and distinction. 

In 1743, after many changes in the duchy of Lorraine, Duval 
was called to Vienna by the Grand-duke, husband of the celebrated 
Maria Theresa, and in the Austrian capital he spent nine months, 
returning, after that time, to Florence, where his old patrons now 
resided. Beneath the soft skies of Italy his time glided away 
happily, passed, for the most part, in studying, cultivating a small 
garden, and making occasional journeys to Rome and Naples. In 
the Eternal City all his old love of the antique revived, and he 
began to form a cabinet of ancient medals. In 1748 he received 
a summons from his royal master to take up his residence at 



VALENTINE JAMEKAI DUVAL. 351 

Vienna. Francis, then Emperor of Germany, was forming a 
cabinet of coins, and desired that Duval should take charge of it. 
The appointment was much to his liking, and he devoted himself 
to its duties with the greatest assiduity. The simplicity and nat- 
ural independence of his character endeared him to the royal 
household ; he was received as a friend, and had no irksome cer- 
emonies imposed on him. The entire confidence of the emperor 
and empress was manifested in the following year by their offer- 
ing him the honorable situation of sub- preceptor to the young 
Archduke Joseph. Duval, however, declined to accept it, on the 
ground that the immethodical manner in which he had pursued 
his own studies rendered him unfit for dictating a course to oth- 
ers. Duval persisted in his refusal to accept the post proffered 
to him, and his sincerity induced his patrons to withhold their 
entreaties without withdrawing any of their friendship. That 
the latter was genuine is illustrated in the following anecdote, 
which we hope is authentic : One day, a foreigner, who had a let- 
ter of introduction to Duval, was in vain attempting to find him 
in the labyrinth of the palace, when he was accosted by a person, 
who said, " Come with me, and I will show you the way." After 
many turnings and windings, the person opened the door, and 
called out, " Duval, I have brought somebody to see you." This 
obliging guide was the emperor. On another occasion the em- 
press displayed an equal contempt of ceremonious forms. It was 
Carnival time, and there was to be a grand masked ball. The 
empress invited Duval to her apartment, and prevailed upon him 
to assume the garb of a Turkish dervis, having previously made a 
wager with the emperor that there would be a character at the 
ball whose incognito he could not penetrate. " Come, Duval," 
she said, gayly, "I hope you will at least dance a minuet with 
me." "I, your majesty !" exclaimed he; "in my native woods 
I never learned any thing more graceful than turning heels over 
head." The empress laughed heartily ; they entered the ball- 
room, and, though the emperor did his best to discover who was 
the dervis, he lost his wager. 

In 1752 Duval was forced to suspend his literary and antiqua- 
rian labors. Intense application had made serious inroads on his 
health, and his physicians advised a tour. He traveled through 
various parts of Germany and the Netherlands, and then visited 
Paris, where he met with a hospitable reception from all the lit- 






352 SELF-MADE MEN. 

erary characters of the day. On his return he passed through 
his native province of Champagne, and availed himself of many 
opportunities of showing a kindly remembrance. In Lorraine, 
also, he rebuilt the hermitage of St. Joseph de Messui, originally 
erected by the founder of St. Anne's, and which was now inhab- 
ited by the hermit who had first taught him the rudiments qf 
reading and writing. 

The remainder of his days were passed blamelessly amid books, 
medals, conversations, correspondences, and other kindred occupa- 
tions. Duval was the author of various numismatic catalogues- 
works requiring an unusual amount of exact antiquarian knowl- 
edge ; also of three volumes of letters and fragments, and two un- 
published works — the one a treatise on medals, the other a phil- 
osophical romance. He remained in firm health until his eighti- 
eth year, when he was attacked with a painful disease which over- 
threw his hearty constitution, and brought him to the brink of 
the grave. He rallied for a while, but the shock proved too se- 
vere, and on the third of November, 1775, he died, in the eighty- 
first year of his age. By his will he left the interest of eleven 
thousand florins to be divided yearly, as a marriage portion, 
among three poor young girls of Vienna ; a pension to a widow, 
with whom he had boarded ; and annuities to his servant and 
a deserted child, whom the servant had found in the street and 
taken under his protection. 







CHAELES DICKENS. 

In the minds of a good many excellent critics this illustrious 
gentleman represents the genius of modern fiction. A structure 
of wonderful comprehensiveness and beauty is upheld on his braw- 
ny shoulders, and future generations, they say, will point to it as 
to the mighty ruins of the Parthenon, saying here is a guide and 
a study. A writer so curiously varied and fresh as Mr. Dickens 
provokes naturally a vast amount of exaggerated admiration. 
The most discreet find it difficult to assign him a place. He 
shoots out so strangely in every direction, and yet possesses such 
a wonderful power of concentration, that we are always liable to 
say too much or too little of his powers. One thing is certain, 
the world has produced but few men of Mr. Dickens's calibre. 
He belongs incontestably to the same order of genius as Shak- 
speare, Fielding, and Sir Walter Scott. It would not be utterly 
absurd to say that in some particulars he is superior to either of 
these illustrious officers of the legions of literature, nor would it 
be difficult to prove that in many things he is their inferior. The 
best established fact that can be mentioned, and one which bears 






354 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



its own significance, is that he has given a distinctive character 
to the age in which he wrote. It has been Mr. Dickens's pleas- 
ant task to originate a peculiar kind of fiction, and his good for- 
tune to create the appetite for it. We say a peculiar kind of fic- 
tion because an analysis of his works displays the fact that he 
never touches the bad without making us grieve for its badness, 
never whispers the truth without making us glory in its triumph. 
With a sensibility which is almost divine he searches out the hid- 
den springs of charity and refreshes us with their genial flow be- 
fore we well know that we have been touched with the rod of the 
magician. No human creature ever was or ever will be so vile 
but good-will in some shape clings about his heart ; whether it be 
for man, or beast, or inanimate thing, it is there, and Mr. Dick- 
ens, with his witty springes, his pathetic pitfalls, his eloquent 
lunges, his humorous shafts, is sure to take it captive, and once 
in his glowing embrace escape is impossible until what is good 
becomes better. The secret of Mr. Dickens's enormous popular- 
ity is to be found in this circumstance. We all think we are 
very good creatures, and Mr. Dickens makes us feel that we are 
becoming better. It is a pleasant thought, and travels from pole 
to pole of constituted society. 

Mr. Charles Dickens is now (1858) in his forty-sixth year, hav- 
ing come into this world, which he has much comforted with his 
genial genius, on the 15th of February, 1812, at Landport, Ports- 
mouth. His father was employed at the time in the naval estab- 
lishment, and, when the war ceased, was rewarded with a pen- 
sion, on which, like a sensible man, he retired. Being a person 
of considerable talent and education, he gravitated naturally to 
London, and soon after, feeling the lack of some kind of employ- 
ment, and perhaps finding his half-pay insufficient for metropoli- 
tan life, obtained a situation to report the debates in Parliament 
for the " Chronicle," on the staff of which paper he continued for 
several years. 

Concerning the early education of Mr. Charles Dickens we have 
no information. It was his father's wish that he should adopt 
the law as a profession, and it is said that the future novelist was 
actually articled to an attorney, but for how long he devoted his 
attention to Blackstone and Chitty we know not. From an early 
period his inclinations were to the press, and he set himself to 
the task of learning short-hand in order that he might the more 



C'HAKLES DICKENS. 355 

readily obtain a footing in a newspaper office. Reporters were 
then neither so numerous or expert as they are now, and from 
the facility with which the senior Dickens had obtained a posi- 
tion on a first-class paper Mr. Charles Dickens augured hopefully 
of his own chances. He was self-taught in the art of short-hand 
writing. " I bought," he says, " an approved scheme of the no- 
ble art and mystery of stenography (which cost me ten and six- 
pence), and plunged into a sea of perplexity that brought me in a 
few weeks to the confines of distraction. The changes that were 
run upon dots, which in one position meant such a thing, and in 
another position something else entirely different ; the wonderful 
vagaries that were played by circles ; the unaccountable conse- 
quences that resulted from marks like flies' legs ; the tremendous 
effects of a curve in the wrong place — not only troubled my wak- 
ing hours, but reappeared before me in my sleep. When I had 
groped my way blindly through these difficulties, and had master- 
ed the alphabet, which was an Egyptian temple in itself, there 
then appeared a procession of new horrors, called arbitrary char- 
acters — the most despotic characters I have ever known — who 
insisted, for instance, that a thing like the beginning of a cobweb 
meant expectation, that a pen-and-ink sky-rocket stood for disad- 
vantageous. AYhen I had fixed these wretches in my mind, I 
found that they had driven every thing else out of it ; then be- 
ginning again, I forgot them ; while I was picking them up I 
dropped the other fragments of the system — in short, it was al- 
most heart-breaking." 

But the triumph came, and in due time Dickens found him- 
self with a note-book in his hand and a pocketful of pencils, as 
the representative of a paper called " The True Sun." It was 
not a very flourishing concern, and, at the first opportunity, Mr. 
Dickens transferred his services to the "Morning Chronicle," 
where the peculiar clearness and force of his reports were justly 
appreciated. Simply to convey other people's ideas to the read- 
ing public was not the destiny that Mr. Dickens had proposed to 
himself. He felt that he could do more, and that he had the gift 
to address the world's mind in his own person. Like most young 
writers who possess the power of observation he commenced his 
literary career with a series of sketches, afterward known as 
'• Sketches by Boz." They were published in the evening edition 
of the "Chronicle," and at once attracted public attention. There 



356 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



was a breadth and vigor in the delineations, a heartiness and gusto, 
which was new to the reading classes. The sketches were filled 
with ridiculous ideas and many exaggerations leading to an ex- 
cessively spasmodic and far-fetched kind of fun, but these draw- 
backs were not the defects of a common man, but rather the ex- 
uberant wild-growth of a fancy unusually alive to impressions of 
a humorous nature. In looking for characters, too, Dickens to- 
tally abandoned the perfumed boudoirs of the Minerva press, and 
went among the people — even vulgar people — and found truth, 
if not inspiration. A cry was at once raised that his tastes were 
vulgar, and it enjoyed a considerable popularity for some years. 
It is not heard very often now. 

The exaggerated humor and local breadth of the sketches were 
such that their success was prodigious, and a publishing house — 
Chapman and Hall — waited on the young author and proposed a 
new literary serial to illustrate a collection of sporting prints de- 
signed by Mr. Seymour, an eminent pencil humorist. In this 
work it was intended to approach the novel form in a free and 
easy way, so that the literary interest of a tale might blend with 
the sporting unction of the illustrations without absorbing too 
much of their interest. 

The suicide of Mr. Seymour left the author entirely to his own 
judgment, and the reader of the " Pickwick Papers" will not fail 
to notice the steady improvement which characterizes the work 
as it progresses. The early chapters abound in absurd situations, 
and the principal characters are little better than wild burlesque 
exaggerations. As we proceed, however, the actors stand forth 
more luminously, and the scenes change to the actual realities and 
places of life. The wonderful graphic power of the author begins 
to manifest itself, and we feel the pressure of his large humane 
hand, the pulsations of his big heart, and, we may add, the sting 
of his trenchant ridicule. A manner of writing so novel attract- 
ed universal attention, and the " Pickwick Papers" were in all 
hands. No recent work had created half so much of a sensation. 
Even now, when most of the jokes of the redoubtable Sam Weller 
have become thoroughly staled, the work retains much of its orig- 
inal attractiveness. A curious and remarkable fact connected 
with this first work of Mr. Dickens is that even in the wild and 
unconnected pages of "Pickwick" he aimed at an object, and di- 
rected his batteries against the Fleet Prison, which soon crumbled 
beneath the operation. 



CHARLES DICKENS. 357 

It was while the "Pickwick Papers" were in progress that Mr. 
Dickens took unto himself a wife. The lady was Miss Caroline 
Hogarth, daughter of Mr. George Hogarth, a celebrated musical 
writer and critic, and a man of mention in literary circles. Mr. 
Hogarth had been a lawyer in Edinburgh, and enjoyed the friend- 
ship of Sir Walter Scott, Lord Jeffrey, and other distinguished 
literary men. The lady is still Mrs. Dickens in name, but we re- 
gret to say no longer occupies the honored position of head of Mr. 
Dickens's household. An unhappy combination of circumstances 
has recently (1858) led to an estrangement between the couple, 
and they live apart, although not legally divorced. Rumors of a 
cruel character have been circulated to the disadvantage of Mr. 
Dickens — the world, as is usual in such cases, espousing the cause 
of the lady — but, if we may be permitted to judge of his actual 
feelings by the tone of the cards he has published on the subject, 
we certainly should not be tempted to regard the matter in a 
grave light, but rather to attribute the estrangement to one of 
those unhappy nights of humor which, even in households of 
long standing, are not unfrequent. The plea of incompatibility 
of temper, after twenty-five years of married life and a family of 
eight children, sounds strangely, and can mean, we hope, nothing 
of very frightful import. Publicity, in a case of this kind, is the 
thing most to be dreaded. Its direct tendency is to widen any 
unhappy breach that may exist, and to agglomerate round each 
extreme a party hostile to the other. As the most prominent 
writer of England, and a man whose genial philanthropy has 
made him conspicuous, Mr. Dickens is peculiarly exposed to the 
shafts of envy and malice. Few men have lived so long and done 
so much without exciting the uncharitableness of their contem- 
poraries. It is not remarkable that, now the bare opportunity 
has arrived, the finger of scorn, however mean and dirty, is point- 
ed at him. The grievance, it has been stated, is of long standing, 
but Mr. Dickens treats it with forbearance, and the least we can 
do is to imitate his example. Mrs. Dickens's sister is now the 
head of the author's household. 

Mr. Dickens's second work was "Nicholas Nickleby," in which 
he made a ferocious attack on Yorkshire schools, and succeeded 
in bringing them into ill favor. These schools were generally 
situated in some remote county, and, by reason of their inaccessi- 
bility, were safe places of keeping for the poor helpless little crea- 



6ol 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



tures who were sent there. Heartless parents, who found their 
unloved ones too much in the way, sent them to these vile places, 
where they were taken care of with much less kindness than they 
would have received in the penitentiary as culprits. It frequent- 
ly happened that they died beneath the treatment. Escaping this 
blessed relief, they served out their term of imprisonment, and with 
faculties benumbed with hardship, went their way into the world 
degraded and friendless. There are many such schools even in 
the present day, but their worst features were modified by the 
publicity excited by Mr. Dickens. The cruel meanness and in- 
difference of parents and guardians are, we fear, beyond the cura- 
tive reach of literature. 

The novel materially increased the author's reputation, espe- 
cially with the better class of readers. In its construction it is 
far superior to " Pickwick," and freer from comic exaggerations, 
although developing a wonderful range of individualities, and 
knowledge of character. The Yorkshire schoolmasters were great- 
ly incensed at the character of Squeers, forgetting that their indig- 
nation stamped the veracity of the portrait. One individual, in 
particular, who happened to have but one eye, and resembled 
Squeers physically as well as mentally, even went so far as to 
threaten the author with an action at law. In "Nicholas Nickle- 
by" we have the first of those amusing dashes at theatrical fife 
which have so often delighted Mr. Dickens's readers. For the 
stage and its members Mr. Dickens has always had a warm regard, 
and of late years he has often appeared in public in company with 
other literary amateurs. It is conceded on all hands — and most 
cordially by those who are best able to form an opinion — that he 
is an actor of rare ability. Probably there are some worthy man- 
agers of the Crummles kind who have a different opinion. 

The first ambition of a successful novelist is to become the ed- 
itor of a literary magazine. Creative minds of all kinds expe- 
rience the same desire, and the cause is to be traced to that gen- 
eral facility which all active minds enjoy, and which leaves more 
to be said than can be compassed within the limits of a novel or 
of any one beaten track. The monthlies in those days were de- 
voted to the big-wiggery of criticism, and were stilted and pom- 
pous to a degree. An awful sanctity prevailed in their columns, 
a fearful amount of correct vigor in their opinions, and more or 
less of respectable dullness in every thing they contained. They 



CHARLES DICKENS. 359 

were not, as now, the vehicles of the best literature of the day, 
although their articles were certainly the best written. Learning 
rather than observation characterized their tone. They were 
sharp, brilliant, and witty, because it was considered low to be 
genial, humorous, and observant. A good number was that which 
most resembled a porcupine in the number and delicacy of its 
points. With the beadledom of such publications Mr. Dickens 
could have no sympathy. However much they might excite his 
respect, they could not win his admiration. Either he was too 
low or they were too high, and he determined that the public 
should decide. The experiment was made, and " Bentley's Mis- 
cellany," of which he became editor, obtained at once an immense 
circulation and a character and standing of its own which it has 
never lost. It was in this magazine that Mr. Dickens published 
" Oliver Twist," issuing it in monthly parts, with illustrations 
by George Cruickshank. No other work of the author deals so 
largely with the lower classes. The story is of the intensest 
kind, and, in an artistic point of view, it may be regarded as one 
of the author's best successes. " Never before," says a critic, 
" were so much dirt, vice, and depravity so completely exposed, 
and yet so cleanly trodden under foot. The author passes through 
a very pest-house without a breath of contagion." 

After the completion of " Oliver Twist," Mr. Dickens gave up 
the editorship of "Bentley's Miscellany," discovering in all proba- 
bility that the dry drudgery of the position was too much of a 
restraint on his creative powers. The reins passed into the hands 
of Mr. Harrison Ainsworth, who, in the effort to follow in the 
footsteps of Mr. Dickens, commenced the well-known story of 
" Jack Sheppard," a work in which vice became attractive. This 
work enjoyed a dreadful popularity for a few months. It was 
dramatized extensively. There was not a thief in London who 
did not find his way to the gallery of the theatre. The flash 
songs with which the thing abounds became the national music 
of Roguesville, and were yelled by men, women, and children. In 
a word, the scamps of London had a perfect orgie on this delec- 
table production of Mr. Harrison Ainsworth's genius. In due 
time, however, public taste recovered its healthy action. "Jack 
Sheppard" was viewed in its proper light as an extremely vicious 
sensation novel, calculated to fling a halo round the gallows, and 
make every bold thief think that he was a hero. People began to 



360 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



notice how vastly different was Mr. Dickens's treatment of char- 
acters equally vile, how thoroughly different the argument which 
the work enforced. Mr. Ainsworth's "Jack Sheppard," which 
was intended to destroy Mr. Dickens on his own ground, simply 
contributed to the latter gentleman's reputation. 

Although Mr. Dickens had discovered that a monthly form of 
periodical was not the thing for him, he was still anxious to place 
himself at the head of a serial of some sort. Not only would it 
form a convenient channel for much miscellaneous matter, but in 
the end it might prove a valuable property. We know now that 
in this effort he has succeeded, and that in " Household Words" 
he is surrounded by a set of writers who imitate his style so close- 
ly that if he does not actually write an article once in a month it 
is scarcely noticed ; but it was only after three hard and perse- 
vering efforts that he succeeded in hitting the public taste. The 
circumstances attending the first we have already narrated. After 
resigning the editorship of " Bentley's," his second attempt was 
made on his own account. This was " Master Humphrey's 
Clock," which, in its original shape, was a weekly, and intended 
to contain short tales, essays, communications, etc. The plan was 
found to be obsolete, and after a few numbers Mr. Dickens com- 
menced his exquisite story of the " Old Curiosity Shop," which, 
in a short time, absorbed the weekly issue, and left the public 
nothing to regret. On its conclusion, Mr. Dickens's first histori- 
cal story of another period, " Barnaby Rudge," was commenced, 
a tale of astonishing power, which contributed in a large measure 
.to the reputation of the author. 

On its conclusion Mr. Dickens made that celebrated trip to 
America, which resulted in the publication of a volume of "Notes." 
He was received with great favor, and among all classes of people 
was fairly idolized. It is probable, even, that he was " bored" by 
the excessive generosity of his reception. Whatever the impres- 
sion, he gave it honestly in his " Notes," and has stuck by it man- 
fully to the present day, notwithstanding an immense loss of pop- 
ularity in this country and also in Europe. It is useless and 
stupid to think that a man shall think our way simply because we 
feast him, and still more absurd to attribute mean and interested 
motives to him because we can account for his strictures in no 
other way. Much that is offensive in Mr. Dickens's book is 
merely so because it is placed in an absurd European light, not 



CHARLES DICKENS. 361 

because it is untrue in the abstract. After all, however, it wns 
a cruel shock to find that the man we approached with such con- 
fident love should turn round on us and utter, truly or not, so 
many harsh things. That he did so was an indication that he 
felt himself under a business necessity to write a book, and, per- 
haps, of making it as scandalous as possible. The piquant relish 
with which Miss Martineau's volume had been received some 
time before was yet new to the trade. There was room for some- 
thing more of the same sort, and Mr. Dickens was indiscreet 
enough to supply the demand. The blemishes which destroy the 
interest of the book for an American reader are much to be re- 
gretted, for it contains passages of great beauty, and there are bits 
of graphic description, purely American, that have rarely been 
equaled. 

Mr. Dickens made farther use of his American experience in 
the novel of " Martin Chuzzlewit," and contributed a good petard 
to the hoisting of the villainous land-swindles which were then 
much in vogue. This work belongs to what may be termed Mr. 
Dickens's second period, and deals in the minute delineation of 
character rather than the development of an intense plot. It en- 
joyed an immediate success, and was allowed on all hands to be 
the most elaborate and finished of the author's productions. The 
characters, or at least a part of them, have become household 
words. If we are told that such a man is a regular Pecksniff, 
we knoAV all that we wish to know about him, and bestow our 
pity on the inevitable Tom Pinch who we are quite sure is in the 
neighborhood to be sponged on. Bailey Junior, and Sarah Gamp, 
with her invisible and immortal friend Mrs. Harris, Montague 
Tigg, Mrs. Todgers, and half a dozen others we might mention, 
are well-remembered acquaintances, whose names serve as easy 
symbols in every-day conversation. 

While " Martin Chuzzlewit" was in progress the world was 
agreeably delighted by the announcement that Mr. Dickens had a 
Christmas book in the press. In due time. the famous " Carol' ' 
made its appearance, and it is not too much to say that hundreds 
of thousands of hearts beat quicker to its lovely staves, and re- 
membered with keener joy the festive duties of the Christian sea- 
son. 

The originality and brightness of the " Carol" secured for it an 
immediate popularity, which it has never lost. It is not going 

Q 



;62 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



too far to say that of its sort it is the finest work in the English 
language, and while human nature exists it is difficult to see how 
such a work can be dimmed by time. An enormous edition was 
disposed of, and the profits were such as to enable Mr. Dickens 
to assume a better position with his publishers, or, rather, to 
change them entirely. One of the sacred privileges of genius is 
to be in debt, and we may remark, without committing an un- 
pardonable act of bad taste, that Mr. Dickens is not without his 
little scandals in this matter. Few writers have probably de- 
rived so much directly from the public, but in cases of this kind 
any amount is almost sure to be insufficient. A popular favorite 
is to a great extent public property. He becomes the observed 
of all observers. His household is an object of curiosity, and, 
from the mere duties of hospitality, it becomes vastly inflated. 
Then it is notorious that men of sentiment and genial inspiration 
always incline to the profuse and liberal rather than the econom- 
ical and discreet. Mr. Dickens maintains a large household, and 
his expenses are undoubtedly very great. Among his acquaint- 
ances may be numbered the highest in the land, and, although 
persons of this class do not demand extravagance, and, in point 
of fact, are often remarkable for their disregard of it, they lead 
necessarily to conditions of domestic plenty and luxury which are 
not easily imposed on the income of the literary man. In a the- 
oretical point of view, Mr. Dickens seems to have had his eye di- 
rected to the main chance for many years, and in a letter to Lord 
Jeffrey, which has been made public, speaks of a certain provision 
or imbankment for his family, which the canny Scotchman says 
he is surprised to find "still so small." It was probably owing to 
the advice of this discreet friend that Mr. Dickens freed himself 
from the influence of his former publishers and made an arrange- 
ment with Messrs. Bradbury & Evans, who have since issued his 
works at a bare percentage on the actual cost of manufacture. All 
that can be made from their sale goes directly into the pocket of 
Mr. Dickens without any intermediate taxation. Still it is pretty 
generally understood that Mr. Dickens's income, although un- 
doubtedly greater than that of the President of the United States, 
falls short of his outgoings. It is a matter with which the public 
has nothing whatever to do, and the scandal, like all other scan- 
dals, is simply impertinent. No man in literature, or in any thing 
else, has worked harder than Mr. Dicken?. In mere quantity, he 



CHARLES DICKENS. 363 

has produced more than an entire generation would have produced 
when reputations were easily achieved. If he goes a little beyond 
his capital, it is no one's business but his own. 

The furore occasioned by the publication of the " Christmas 
Carol," and the pecuniary profit which resulted therefrom, led 
naturally to a repetition of the experiment on the following Christ- 
mas, when " The Chimes, a Goblin Story" made its appearance, 
accompanied by any quantity of Christmas books by other authors. 
It is doubtful if this work is in any way inferior to the "Carol," 
while in point of careful writing it far excels it. A very generous 
success rewarded the author, and induced him to continue the ex- 
periment of Christinas books for some years subsequently. The 
"Cricket on the Hearth," "The Battle of Life," and "The 
Haunted Man," made their appearance in regular succession, but 
their interest was not the same. The truth of the matter, we sus- 
pect, is that the "Carol" was a happy inspiration, while all the 
others were more or less of a task. There was also an attempt to 
improve on the design of the first work, which was superfluous, 
inasmuch as inspiration is an essence which does not submit to ar- 
tistic distillation. 

A disposition to ramble belongs naturally to the literary char- 
acter. Mr. Dickens, although a family-man, does not neglect his 
little opportunities. When the vacation comes, and come it does 
even to the popular author, he packs his carpet-bag and flies away 
with the best of them. We have enjoyed the pleasant experience 
of his observation in many fugitive pieces, particularly since the 
establishment of " Household Words." In 1844 Mr. Dickens de- 
termined to take a stroll through Italy in a large and responsi- 
ble manner. He staid there for a year, surrounded by his fam- 
ily, and living in a palace. It is probable that he would have 
remained longer but for a new speculation which engaged his 
thoughts. This was none other than the establishment of a daily 
newspaper to rival and perhaps extinguish "The Times." In due 
time the first issue made its appearance, and the "Daily News" 
^ became a reality among newspapers. Mr. Dickens was placed at 
the head of the literary department, and the weight of his name 
undoubtedly gave prestige to the undertaking. But starting a 
newspaper is a slow and laborious process. Its results are not 
more rapid than those of a new vineyard planted in uncertain 
soil. To succeed with any thing like moderate rapidity it is ncces- 



364 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



sary to have a staff of men thoroughly broken in to the work, for 
newspaper writing and newspaper work are in themselves peculiar, 
and demand study and practice. Literary men are very apt to 
suppose that because they can write a good story they can neces- 
sarily dash off an editorial with infinite and almost contemptible 
ease. Nothing can be farther from the fact. The best newspaper 
writers are those whose imaginations never tempt them into the 
realms of fiction, men who can fix their mind on a fact with the 
absolute certainty of conquering it. Moreover, in the conduct of 
a public journal it is necessary to observe a rough sort of descrim- 
ination, without staring too sternly at absolute propriety, or mak- 
ing it apparent at every step that you have a side to keep up. 
There is a blunted conscientiousness about an experienced editor 
which is no less serviceable than curious. He says not only what 
is necessary to be said, but frequently what is absolutely unneces- 
sary. His advances and his concessions, his liberalities and his 
meannesses are so metaphysically balanced that it is almost impos- 
sible for a literary man, or, indeed, any man given to exact thought, 
to understand their drift. The truth of the matter is that an ed- 
itor when he becomes good ceases to be the champion of a bare 
principle. He yields to the pressure from without, simply giving 
to it a shape and complexion consonant with his education and 
mode of thought. Young writers, on the other hand, cling to 
their own ideas with a tenacity which, if it fails to excite admira- 
tion, is sure to create disgust. They work themselves into an ill- 
temper with a facility which is wonderful, and generally succeed 
in producing the same result in their readers. 

All Mr. Dickens's roseate visions of journalistic life, if he ever 
had any, were soon knocked on the head. Good as the paper was, 
it failed to pay expenses, partly owing to the smallness of the price 
which was charged for it, and partly owing to the fact that a young 
newspaper always must pay too much for its whistle. It was de- 
termined to raise the price to three pence, but even this did not do. 
There was still a loss, and finally the price was made the same as 
the " London Times." This was not, we apprehend, a good way 
of competing with that powerful and well-conducted journal, but 
it was perhaps the best thing that could be done in London, where 
people are apt to look with suspicion on any thing that is cheap 
and new. Whatever the immediate result, we know now that 
the "Daily News" holds its own against the "Thunderer" with 



CHARLES DICKENS. 3G5 

such marked ability that as an exponent of public opinion is second 
only to it To return, then, to Mr. Dickens. In this paper, be- 
sides numerous " editorials," he published the series of communi- 
cations known as " Pictures from Italy," the result of his sojourn 
iu the sunny land. They are exceedingly light, and repay a hasty 
perusal, their greatest fault being, in point of fact, that they are 
too light even for the ephemeral columns of a newspaper. Con- 
sidering that they came from the pen of Mr. Dickens, it is not say- 
ing too much to state plainly that they failed. This circumstance, 
combined with others of a pecuniary character, induced Mr. Dick- 
ens to relinquish the duties of the editor's chair. " The Pictures 
from Italy" were subsequently published in book form, but they 
failed to attract general attention. 

And here we will take the liberty of mentioning a work by Mr. 
Dickens which is not so widely known as it deserves to be. It 
has never been added to his complete works, although in its way 
it is undoubtedly one of the completest of them all. In 1844 a 
little book was published called " The Evenings of a Working-man, 
being the occupation of his scanty leisure, by John Overs ; with a 
preface relating to the author by Charles Dickens." The story 
of this little volume is touching enough. John Overs was a work- 
ing-man, a carpenter, who devoted his evenings to literary compo- 
sition. He wrote to Dickens to ask him to assist him in obtaining 
a publisher. A correspondence took place, and an interview in 
which Dickens endeavored to dissuade John Overs from placing 
too much expectation on literary renown or profit. "He wrote 
to me," says Mr. Dickens, " as manly and as straightforward, but, 
withal, as modest a letter as ever I read in my life. He explained 
to me how limited his ambition was, soaring no higher than the 
establishment of his wife in some light business and the better ed- 
ucation of his children. He set before me the difference of his 
evening and holiday studies, such as they were, and his having no 
better resource than an ale-house or a skittle-ground." The book 
was published with an introduction by Mr. Dickens. It accom- 
plished its object, but it was incapable of bringing health to the 
blanched cheek of the poor artisan. John Overs is no more, and 
his book is forgotten, but Dickens's gentleness to this smitten la- 
borer is surely worthy of remembrance. 

" Dombey and Son" was the next work which came from the 
pen of Mr. Dickens, appearing in the usual monthly form, and con- 
suming something more than a year and a half in publication. 



366 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



The critics were divided concerning the merits of this work. Por- 
tions of it, such, for instance, as the passages relating to little Paul 
Dombey, were universally extolled. On the whole, however, it 
was regarded as something of a failure. The story found its way 
to the stage, and in all parts of the world the name of Captain 
Cuttle is famous. 

Perhaps Dickens himself had a feeling that " Dombey" was not 
quite up to the usual standard, and this consciousness, added to 
the fact that Mr. Thackeray had just made his mark in "Vanity 
Fair," led to a very careful revision of his subsequent work, 
"David Copperfield." This work is universally accepted as one 
of Mr. Dickens's best, and is rendered doubly interesting by the 
knowledge that it is, to an extent at least, an autobiography. The 
whole story is wonderfully human, and paints the struggles of life, 
brought down absolutely to the moment in which Ave live and 
breathe, with a vividness which fairly illuminates the brain and 
floods the heart. The struggles of the poor boy -hero, surrounded 
by flinty-hearted relatives, the sympathy which he excites in the 
bosom of lowly fisher-folk, the wonderfully earnest story of the 
poor seduced girl, and that loveliest of all lovely creations, the 
rough yet delicate loyalty of the old fisherman for his lost niece, 
are so far beyond the efforts of the modern writer of fiction that 
they take us into a new world of emotion, and create an enjoy- 
ment which it may honestly be said belongs only to the contempla- 
tion of virtue. In a merely artistic point of view, it is the best 
written of Mr. Dickens's productions, and displays a prodigious 
command of the pure narrative style, peculiarly enjoyable when the 
author is describing his own modest efforts in literature. There 
are characters in the work which again give significance to mod- 
ern society. There are few of us who do not know a Micawber, 
a modified Uriah Heap, a child-wife, an Agnes, or some other of 
the innumerable groupings which give dramatic vigor to its plot. 

In 1840 Mr. Dickens issued the first number of his celebrated 
periodical known as "Household Words." It is, as our readers 
are aware, a large weekly serial, entirely free from advertisements, 
and filled with original matter. Nearly all the most prominent 
of the young English writers have contributed to its columns, and 
several of the number have acquired a style which compares favor- 
ably with that of Mr. Dickens, especially Mr. Sala, a writer of 
very pleasant observation and great industry. It was in this pub- 
lication that Mr. Dickens published his famous " Child's History 



CHARLES DICKENS. t 367 

of England," a work avowedly intended for children, but contain- 
in^ so many vivid pictures of grand English events that it fasci- 
nates the most cultivated minds. A vast number of articles on 
topics of the day and a novel called "Hard Times" have also 
appeared in its columns from the same prolific pen. The under- 
taking is understood to be a very profitable one, and Mr. Dickens 
devotes much of his time to its conduct. The miscellaneous as- 
sociation with men of letters which the editorship of a journal in- 
volves probably suggested to Mr. Dickens the idea of the " Guild 
of Literature and Art," which, in 1851, was projected under the 
joint auspices of himself and Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer. To as- 
sist in raising a fund for the objects of this charitable association, 
a series of amateur performances were given in London and else- 
where, the author of " The Caxtons" writing a new comedy for 
the occasion called "Not so bad as we seem." 

Mr. Dickens's latest works are "Bleak House" and "Little 
Dorritt," both of which are of such recent origin that additional 
remarks are unnecessary. We may add in this place that Mr. 
Dickens is the author of a " Life of Grimaldi, the Clown," and 
of an opera and a farce. The first of these neglected children may 
sometimes be met with, but the others appear to be lost. 

In personal appearance, says a writer in the "Biographical 
Magazine," Mr. Dickens is prepossessing; his figure small but 
well made, his look intelligent, and his eye peculiarly quick, viv- 
id, and expressive. When he enters a room he appears to take a 
complete catalogue and estimate of the furniture and people at a 
glance. His powers of penetration are remarkable, and his facil- 
ity of description Ave all know is equally extraordinary. In pri- 
vate Boz talks much or little, according to the sympathy he has 
with the company. His conversation is, as might be expected, 
easy, flowing, and genial ; he hates argument, and never talks for 
effect. He excels in telling a story, which he does in general 
with humorous exaggerations. He is a great admirer of Tenny- 
son's poetry and of Maclise's pictures. His house in Devonshire 
Terrace is adorned with pictures of the best living artists, and 
every corner shows the influence of taste and wealth. His li- 
brary is extensive, and in the literature of his country, in which 
few are better read, very well selected. Lie is, or rather was, 
very active and fond of dancing, his favorite dance being Sir 
Roger de Coverly. He has also a remarkable passion (which is 
shared by Macaulay) for midnight wandering in a city's streets. 




SIR THOMAS LAWEENCE. 

This celebrated painter was born in 1769, and was the young- 
est of a family of sixteen children. His father, although a man 
of some cultivation, and originally educated to the law, was an 
innkeeper at Bristol (where Thomas was born), and made a mis- 
erable living. His success, indeed, was so very limited, that in a 
short time he abandoned business and repaired to Devizes. Mr. 
Lawrence was, in some respects, a very remarkable man. His 
mind always appears to have been occupied with matters out of his 
business, and not in it. One of his most remarkable passions was 
for poetry, which he not only wrote, but spouted with great gusto. 
Pie would sometimes walk into the parlor of his hotel, and insist 
that all the guests should leave off their affairs while he recited a 
poem for their better edification. Poetry, under certain conditions 
of life, is delightful, but, thrust down the unwilling throat in this 
abrupt manner, it loses all its charm, and becomes a serious bore. 
It is not at all remarkable that his customers deserted him for a 
more tranquil hostelry. 

Thomas was a prodigy from his earliest years. He is thus de- 



SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 309 

scribed by an "eye-witness" in Harrington's Miscellanies (1781). 
After speaking of the early musical talent exhibited by the Earl 
of Mornington, he proceeds : "As I have mentioned so many other 
proofs of early genius in children, I can not here pass unnoticed 
Master Lawrence, son of an innkeeper at Devizes, in Wiltshire. 
This boy is now (1780) nearly ten years and a half old, but at the 
age of nine, without the most distant instruction from any one, he 
was capable of copying historical subjects in a masterly style, and 
also succeeded amazingly in compositions of his own, particularly 
that of Peter denying Christ. In about seven minutes he scarce- 
ly ever failed of drawing a strong likeness of any person present, 
which had generally much freedom and grace, if the subject per- 
mitted. He is likewise an excellent reader of blank verse, and 
will immediately convince any one that he both understands and 
feels the striking passages of Milton and Shakspeare." Mr. Law- 
rence was, of course, enormously proud of his youthful son, and 
never neglected an opportunity of bringing him out before his friends 
to recite a poem. At the age of six Thomas was sent to school, 
where, however, he only remained for a couple of years. This, 
with the exception of a few lessons in Latin and French which he 
received some time after, was all the schooling he ever received. 
His early proficiency in drawing belonged entirely to innate talent. 
So remarkable was it, that one gentleman of wealth volunteered to 
maintain him in Italy, if he would repair to that country to study. 
But one of his father's queer whims interfered with the operation 
of this plan. He was afraid that study in the schools would 
cramp and restrain the development of his son's native genius. 
He became so absurd on this subject that he would not even al- 
low Thomas to take lessons from resident masters. 

Mr. Lawrence failed in business in Devizes, as he had done in 
Bristol, and probably from the same cause. He now removed to 
Bath, a fashionable watering-place, where people who think they 
are sick chink very nasty water and believe they are well. The 
reputation of young Thomas had preceded him, and much curiosity 
was displayed to witness his productions. Mr. Lawrence saw that 
something profitable might be made out of this, and he was right. 
Thomas took portraits at a guinea apiece, and had so many sitters 
that he raised the price to a guinea and a half. He conducted this 
business with complete success for a period of six years, during 
that long time supporting his father and family by his unassisted 



370 SELF-MADE MEN. 

labors. He is said to have worked regularly in painting portraits 
at least four hours a day. The rest of his time was devoted to 
studies and efforts to obtain mechanical excellence. Among his 
patrons were some who owned valuable pictures, and who readily 
gave the young artist permission to copy them. Among other 
copies which he executed at this time was one of the Transfig- 
uration by Raphael. This was sent to the Society of Arts, but, 
owing to some informality, was inadmissible to the exhibition. 
The society, however, were so satisfied of its merits that they 
bestowed on the young artist their large silver palette and five 
guineas in cash. 

During his stay in Bath he received some valuable lessons from 
Mr. Hoare, a crayon painter of exquisite taste, fancy, and feeling. 
Under the instruction of this gentleman he acquired considerable 
ability in the execution of crayon portraits. The extreme deli- 
cacy of his finish gave to his pictures a superior charm even at 
this early day, and he found no scarcity of sitters. His father 
took him on excursions to Oxford, Salisbury, and Weymouth, 
where he obtained ready occupation for his pencil, and finally he 
removed to London, imagining that, in a larger field, his son would 
have a better opportunity for exercising his abilities to advantage. 
It is probable, also, that Thomas's success with the Society of Arts 
had something to do with this determination. The resolution of 
this society is worthy of preservation. It is as follows : " Took 
into consideration the drawings of the Transfiguration, marked 
G., and opened the paper containing the name of the candidate, 
according to the directions of the society ; and it appeared to the 
committee that the candidate was T. Lawrence, aged 13, 1783, 
in Alfred Street, Bath. The committee, having received satis- 
factory information that the production is entirely the work of 
the young man, resolved to recommend to the society to give the 
greater silver palette gilt and five guineas to Mr. T. Lawrence, as 
a token of the society's approbation of his abilities." 

In London Thomas Lawrence pursued his profession with suc- 
cess. Besides portraits, he executed many drawings, which were 
finished with such exquisite lightness and grace that the smallest 
found a ready sale at half a guinea. Lawrence's first appearance 
as an exhibitor was at Somerset House in 1787, when he con- 
tributed seven pictures. The next year he removed into a fash- 
ionable neighborhood, and contributed sixof his performances to 



i 

SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 371 

the exhibition. The following year he sent no fewer than thir- 
teen, and in 1790 twelve pictures. Among the latter were por- 
traits of some of the most eminent personages in the land. ' In 
the catalogue of 1792 he is described as "Thomas Lawrence, a 
principal painter in ordinary to his majesty." The year previous 
he had been elected an associate of the Royal Academy. 

Hinder ordinary circumstances he would now have been in easy 
circumstances, but his pecuniary affairs were far from affluent. 
The draughts made on his purse by his parents were frequent and 
deep. Thomas was only too glad to supply their wants, and toil 
for more, that they might share it. 

On the death of Sir Joshua Eeynolds in 1792, Mr. Lawrence 
had not completed his twenty-third year, but was the recipient of 
many honors which had been denied to others. The Dilettanti 
Society unanimously chose him to succeed Sir Joshua as their 
painter, although to effect this they were obliged to rescind a 
regulation (and a very stupid one) which prevented the admission 
to the society of any person who had not crossed the Alps. Mr. 
Lawrence's foot had never quitted the soil of England. The 
king, George the Third, also appointed him to succeed Sir Joshua 
Eeynolds as his principal painter in ordinary. 

Thus established as the popular portrait painter of the day, 
Lawrence experienced no scarcity of patrons. He gradually raised 
his prices as he advanced in fame, but the sitters came even in 
larger numbers. In 1802 his charge for three quarters size was 
thirty guineas ; for a full length, sixty guineas ; and for a whole 
length, one hundred and twenty guineas. In 180G the three quar- 
ters rose to forty guineas, and the whole length to two hundred. 
In 1808 he raised the smallest size to eighty guineas, and the 
largest to three hundred and twenty guineas ; and in 1810, when 
the death of Hoppner swept all rivalry out of the way, he in- 
creased the price of the heads to one hundred, and the full-lengths 
to four hundred guineas. 

About this time he was suspected of serious love-making in a 
very high quarter, and a good deal of scandal was the conse- 
quence. For some time Lawrence had been a frequent guest at 
Montague House, Blackheath, the residence of the Princess of 
"Wales ; and as he continued his attentions after the portrait of 
that unfortunate lady was finished, his visits were ascribed to no 
proper motive. This was rigorously inquired into by the com- 



372 SELF-MADE MEN. 

missioners appointed to investigate the general conduct of her 
royal highness. Light of heart, and of a natural levity, which 
disregarded the smaller delicacies of her sex ; deserted or driven 
away by one who had taken upon himself the office of protect- 
or, and with manners much more free than were common in En- 
gland, this princess was exposed to insinuations which any oth- 
er lady in the kingdom might have escaped. From all that was 
criminal, the charity or the justice of the commissioners of that 
day entirely freed her, and the conduct of the painter would have 
been forgotten, had not his own restlessness under the suspicion 
hurried him before a magistrate, to make oath that his visits arose 
from friendship, and were platonic and pure. 

Sir Thomas Lawrence died very suddenly on the 7th of Janu- 
ary, 1830. Four days previous he had been dining with some 
friends. After their departure, he felt so indisposed that he sent 
for his friend, Dr. Holland, who conceived his case so dangerous 
that he even sat up with him the whole night. No idea of dan- 
ger had been previously entertained, nor any notion that he was 
worse than what is usually called poorly. On the evening be- 
fore his death he was so much better that he received two of his 
friends, and entered into a pleasant and easy conversation on the 
subject of art and other matters. After a while the two friends 
left the sick man's chamber, and retired for a short time to an ad- 
joining one. Presently they were alarmed by the servant's cries 
for assistance, and, on running into the room, to their horror they 
beheld Sir Thomas a corpse. The servant related that when he 
was called in his master's arm was bleeding (he had been bled at 
the commencement of the attack). He leaned back in his chair, 
seemed much oppressed, and exclaimed, " I am very ill ; I must 
be dying !" These were the last words he uttered. A post- 
mortem examination revealed the fact that he died from very ex- 
tensive ossification of the vessels of the heart. He was buried 
with great pomp in the Cathedral of St. Paul's, where lay the 
earthly remains of the preceding president of the Royal Acade- 
my, Sir Benjamin West. 

Sir Thomas Lawrence was a remarkable instance of a perfect 
artist, entirely self taught. Painting was with him so natural a 
gift, that some of his earliest productions are marked by the same 
grace and finish that characterize his later works. An eminent 
writer says with great justice, "To become the most illustrious 



SIR THOMAS LAWRENCE. 373 

portrait painter of any age or country, somewhat more is required 
than the attributes, however essential, of a mere artist. A prac- 
ticed mastership of the manual dexterities of his art, an exquisite 
perception of the beautiful, a mind delicately organized and en- 
lightened by study, are not alone sufficient to form a Titian, a 
Vandyke, a Beynolds, or a Lawrence. In addition to those char- 
acteristics, it is indispensable that the tone and address of an indi- 
vidual destined to record upon his canvas all that is illustrious 
and beautiful in his time, should be such as to qualify him for 
habitual familiarity with the objects who seek favor with poster- 
ity through his interpretation — that he should live, and move, 
and have his being in that factitious atmosphere which has called 
into life the fair and fragile flowers whose beauty is destined to 
be immortalized by his touch. Instead of rising from the sordid 
trivialities of vulgar life to welcome some noble into his studio, 
before whose overpowering dignity his own greatness of concep- 
tion sinks rebuked, the painter of princes should be the guest of 
princes — should learn to note the aspect of the vain beauty, not 
as when, discontented and shivering, she throws her listless length 
into a chair to be copied by the servile painter, but as when, with 
all her beauties radiant around her, with all the enchantments of 
her grace called into energy by the emulation and inspiring flat- 
tery of the ball-room, she expands into a brighter self. Nay, 
more than this, he should be permitted to follow his subjects into 
the gorgeous retreat of their luxurious homes, catching the air 
and negligent individuality of the statesman, pen in hand, beside 
his own disordered table, and the domestic loveliness of the young 
mother, who exchanges the diamond necklace for the twining arms 
of her beautiful children. It was to a participation in advant- 
ages such as these that the super-eminence of Sir Thomas Law- 
rence as a court painter might in a great measure be attributed. 
The airy grace, the exquisite high-breeding of his female portraits 
— the tone, in short, of his art, was but the tact of an elegant 
mind refined by high association." 



WILLIAM GIFFOED. 



William Gifford was born at Ashburton, Devonshire, En- 
gland, April, 1756. His father was a wild, dissipated fellow, 
who neglected his wife and family for the fatal attractions of the 
ale-house. He was a plumber and glazier, and made some feeble 
attempts to teach his son the same profession, but he was too idle 
and dissolute even for this. He died finally of a decayed and 
ruined constitution, leaving a widow and two children, of whom 
William was the eldest. For a time Mrs. Gilford endeavored to 
carry on her husband's business for the sake of the family, but 
the effort was ruinous. Taking advantage of her ignorance, her 
two knavish journeymen wasted her property and embezzled her 
money. Overcome by anxiety and grief, she sank into the grave 
within twelve months of her unworthy husband. 

The children were left completely destitute, for what few things 
were left in the house at Mrs. Gifford' s decease were seized by the 
landlord. William was taken into the house of this individual, 
probably because he was useful, while his little brother was sent 
to the almshouse. Rumors began to circulate in the town that 
the landlord had more than overpaid himself by the property 
taken from the deceased widow, and, to hush these unpleasant 
rumors, he made a show of taking a great interest in William, and 
sent him to the grammar-school, where the boy made the most of 
his opportunities. But, at the end of three months, the old cur- 
mudgeon of a landlord began to grudge the expense and trouble 
of William's education, and determined that he would get rid of 
him. At first he tried to place him on a farm, but Gifford was 
physically unable to endure the laboriousness of this occupation. 
As he could read and cipher, his godfather next proposed to 
send him out to Newfoundland, to assist in a store-house. A 
Mr. Houldsworthy, of Dartmouth, was to fit him out and have 
his services. When, however, they met, the boy was ignomini- 
ously dismissed as " too small." Finally he obtained a berth on 
a small coasting vessel. In this situation Gifford remained for 
nearly twelve months, undergoing considerable hardship as a sea- 



WILLIAM GIFFORD. 375 

man, and in addition performing all the menial offices of the cabin. 
At length the knowledge of his situation became known in Ash- 
burton, and became the scandal of the place. His godfather de- 
termined to recall him, and on Christmas-day, 1770, he ceased to 
be a sailor boy. Once more he was sent to school, and his dili- 
gence was again unexceptionable. In arithmetic, which was his 
"darling pursuit," he made such rapid progress that in a few 
months he was at the head of the school. On some occasions he 
was even called on to assist the teacher, and when this happened, 
he received a trifle as a reward. This circumstance suggested 
the idea of obtaining subsistence by becoming the master's regu- 
lar assistant, and also by instructing a few evening scholars. He 
hoped that, if he could bring this to bear, he might ultimately suc- 
ceed his former master, Mr. Hugh Smerdon, who was now so old 
and infirm that his tenure of office was not likely to last beyond 
three or four years. These ideas were put to flight by his god- 
father, Carlile, who informed him that he intended to bind him 
apprentice to a shoemaker. Shortly after the ceremony took place, 
and Gifford, burning with literary ambition, was consigned to the 
lapstone for six years. A business so distasteful failed, of course, 
to engage his attention, and he became the common drudge of the 
shoemaker's family. But his ambition was unaltered; he determ- 
ined to make the most of every opportunity to add to his scanty 
stock of knowledge, so that, if fortune befriended him, he would 
be found ready. His opportunities were few, and the temper of 
his master unfavorable. He possessed but one book, a treatise on 
algebra, and this was unintelligible to him, owing to his ignorance 
of simple equations. A lucky chance enabled him to overcome 
the difficulty. His master's son had bought " Fenning's Intro- 
duction," which he secreted, so that no one but himself might 
peruse it. Gifford discovered its hiding-place, sat up several 
nights to study it, and had completely mastered its contents be- 
fore its owner was aware that it had been used. He was now in 
a position to use his own book, if he could only procure pens, ink, 
and paper. What was to be done % He had no money and no 
credit. He beat out scraps of leather till they were smooth, and 
on these he wrote his problems with a blunted awl. He was as- 
sisted by his memory, which was so tenacious that he could mul- 
tiply and divide by it to a great extent. 

About this time he displayed some aptness in making rhymes, 



376 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



generally little squibs on passing affairs. He says of them that 
"nothing on earth was more deplorable," but they served a very 
important purpose. They made him an object of sympathy ; peo- 
ple liked to hear him repeat these effusions, and made little collec- 
tions for him, so that, on great, appreciative occasions, the bard 
received as much as sixpence in an evening. To one who had long 
lived in the absolute want of money, such a resource seemed little 
less than a Peruvian mine. He furnished himself by degrees with 
paper, etc, and, what was of more importance, with books of 
geometry and of the higher branches of algebra, cautiously con- 
cealing the latter, lest they should excite the indignation of his 
employer. The necessity for this precaution was soon apparent. 
Gifford's master became dissatisfied with his apprentice, maintain- 
ing, not unjustly, perhaps, that he paid no attention to business. 
He was ordered to give up his papers, but this he refused to do. 
His refusal provoked summary measures; his garret was search- 
ed, his little hoard of books and papers was discovered and taken 
away, and he was sternly forbidden to study any longer. This 
was a severe blow, but it was followed by another which affected 
him much more distressingly. This was the death of Mr. Hugh 
Smerdon, and the filling up of the vacant place which he had as- 
pired to, and which was the sole end and aim of all his ambition. 
Describing his feelings at this time, he says, "I look back on 
that part of my life which followed this event with little satis- 
faction ; it was a period of gloom and savage unsociability. By 
degrees I sunk into a kind of corporeal torpor, or, if roused into 
activity by the spirit of youth, wasted the exertion in splenetic 
and vexatious tricks, which alienated the few acquaintances which 
compassion had yet left me. So I crept on in silent discontent, 
unfriended and unpitied, indignant of the present, careless of the 
future, an object at once of apprehension and dislike." 

Brighter days were in store for him. A benevolent gentleman 
of Ashburton, named Cookesley, heard of the poor lad's story, and 
sent for him. " My little history was not untinctured with mel- 
ancholy," says Gifford, "and I laid it fairly before him. His first 
care was to console ; his second, which he cherished to the last 
moment of his existence, was to relieve and support me." This 
good old gentleman, who was a surgeon by profession, immediately 
conceived the idea of extricating Gifford from his forlorn position, 
and establishing him in a school, for which his tastes inclined him. 



WILLIAM GIFFORD. 377 

Being a man of limited fortune, he was unable to do all this him- 
self, so he set on foot a subscription " for purchasing the remain- 
der of the time of AVilliam Gifford, and for enabling him to per- 
fect himself in writing and English grammar." It must be re- 
membered that, although Gilford was expert at figures, and had 
penetrated the mysteries of mathematics, all the other elements 
of a solid education were wanting. A man who scratches on 
leather with an awl is not likely to know much about caligraphy. 
The influence of good Mr. Cookesley was sufficient to secure 
the objects he had in view. Gifford was rescued from the drudg- 
ery of the shoemaker's stall, and placed under the tuition of the 
Keverend Thomas Smerdon. His spirits were buoyant, his hopes 
sanguine, and he applied himself to study with such determina- 
tion and success, that when the funds for his support were ex- 
hausted, his patrons willingly renewed their contributions, that 
his education might be continued for another year. At the end 
of two years and two months Mr. Smerdon pronounced him fit 
for the University ; and so extraordinary had been his progress, 
that his patrons abandoned the idea of putting him in a country 
school. They were of opinion that his extraordinary talents 
should be fully cultivated, and that for this purpose he should be 
sent to Oxford. Accordingly, in 1780, Gifford was removed to 
Exeter College. The proficiency he had already obtained in the 
mathematics was fully attested by one circumstance. He had 
been but a short time at Oxford before it was intimated to him 
that his farther attendance at the mathematical lectures was un- 
necessary, as he had carried himself as far in the science as the 
University required. He was consequently left more at leisure 
to devote himself to the classics and poetr} 7 ", in which he soon dis- 
tinguished himself. During his residence at Oxford he had the 
misfortune to lose his good friend, Mr. Cookesley. The event 
threw him into a state of despondency from which he found it 
difficult to rescue himself. A better and kinder man never lived. 
He had been more than a father to Gifford — had dragged him 
from the vulgar purlieus of an obscure trade, and had placed him 
on the high road to fortune and distinction. 

During his residence at Oxford he made the acquaintance of a 
Mr. Peters, a gentleman who acquired reputation as an artist, and 
who subsequently became a clergyman. The acquaintance ripen- 
ed into friendship, and when Mr. Peters left the University for 






378 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the metropolis, a regular correspondence was maintained between 
the friends. At his desire, Gilford's letters were sent under cov- 
er to Lord Grosvenor. It chanced that in one instance Gifford 
forgot to direct the inclosed letter, and, naturally supposing that 
it was meant for himself, his lordship opened and read it. The 
contents surprised and interested the peer to such an extent that 
he desired to make the acquaintance of the writer. This was a 
happy stroke of luck for Gifford. He was introduced to his lord- 
ship, and was at once treated with the greatest consideration. 
In course of time he was appointed tutor to his lordship's son, 
one of the most amiable and accomplished young noblemen of the 
country, and with him made the tour of Europe. 

In 1791 Gifford made his first appearance before the public in 
the character of author and critic. At that time the town was 
deluged with a sickly flood of sentimental poetry. Gifford at- 
tacked it in the Baviad, a free imitation of the first satire of Per- 
sius. Llis stinging sarcasm and ridicule proved fatal to the Delia 
Cruscan school (as it was called) ; laughter took the place of ad- 
miration, and the puny lights of the age were extinguished. The 
lyrists destroyed, Gifford next turned his attention to the dram- 
atists of the same class. In 1794 he published the Mseviad, an 
imitation of the tenth satire of the first book of Horace. The at- 
tack was equally valiant and praiseworthy, but it did not meet 
with the success which had attended his first onslaught. These 
two productions won for Gifford a high standing in the literary 
world, and it was at once awarded to him. In 1797 he became 
connected with a paper (political) called the " Anti- Jacobin, or 
Weekly Examiner," and contributed some of the best articles to 
that hot-headed sheet. Some of Gilford's personal criticisms 
were of the severest kind, especially when, in defending himself 
from the attacks of his numerous enemies, he believed he had the 
right on his side. Dr. Wolcot, better known as Peter Pindar, 
was one of the unfortunates who fell deservedly under his lash. 
Wolcot resolved to take personal vengeance, and proceeded to the 
publication office, where he found the object of his revenge. Hav- 
ing asked the gentleman if his name was Gifford, and having re- 
ceived an answer in the affirmative, he instantly aimed a blow at 
that head where the means of his disgrace and anguish had been 
conceived. Mr. Gifford, who was active in body as in mind, caught 
the blow on his hand, wrenched the stick from his assailant, gave 



WILLIAM GIFFORD. 379 

him two smart strokes on the head, and was proceeding in the 
good work, when two gentlemen who unfortunately happened to 
be present interfered and prevented the farther execution of jus- 
tice. Peter was now turned, bleeding and bellowing, into the 
street, where his clamorous complaint soon drew around him a 
crowd of hackney-coachmen and other lovers of fun, to whom he 
began to relate his melancholy story. Never was discomfort and 
disgrace so complete. 

In 1802 Gilford published his long-expected translation of Ju- 
venal, prefaced by an autobiographical sketch of his own early 
life. It was favorably received by the public, and still ranks as 
one of the best translations of the author. After a lapse of many 
years the translator added to his Juvenal a version of the Satires 
of Persius. In 1809 he became editor of the Quarterly Eeview, 
then started for the purpose of counteracting the influence of the 
Edinburgh Eeview. For fifteen years he fulfilled the arduous 
duties of this office with an ability which gave to the periodical 
a world-wide fame. He was entirely the man for the place. His 
ability was unquestionable ; his politics confirmed and unswerv- 
ing ; his temper defiant, and his pen unscrupulous and savage. 
The most influential party leaders trembled at his word, and no 
literary reputation was secure until he had recognized it. There 
are few men in the world who can conscientiously say that they 
are free from prejudices, and Gifford was not of the number. 
Like all men who think for themselves, he had many private con- 
victions, to which he gave expression as general principles. His 
prejudices, however, were honest ones ; he was no mere hireling- 
scribe ; his pen could not be bought ; he wrote as he thought, 
and always thought that he wrote rightly. "He disliked," says 
a friend, " incurring an obligation which might in any degree 
shackle the expression of his free opinion. Agreeably to this, he 
laid down a rule from which he never departed, that every writer 
in the Quarterly should receive so much, at least, per sheet. On 
one occasion, a gentleman holding office under government sent 
him an article, which, after undergoing some serious mutilations 
at his hands preparatory to being ushered into the world, was ac- 
cepted ; but the usual sum being sent to the author, he rejected 
it with disdain, conceiving it a high dishonor to be paid for any 
thing except his place. Gifford, in answer, informed him of the 
invariable rule of the Review ; adding, that he could send the 



380 SELF-MADE MEN. 

money to any charitable institution, or dispose of it in any man- 
ner he should direct, but that the money must be paid. The 
doughty official, convinced that the virtue of his article would 
force it into the Review at all events, stood firm to his refusal. 
Greatly to his dismay, the article was returned. He revenged 
himself by never sending another. Gifford maintained that the 
author's indignation was occasioned by the alterations he had 
made in the manuscript." 

In addition to his various duties on the Review, he found time 
to prepare for the press several valuable editions of the old En- 
glish dramatists, accompanying the letter-press with extensive 
notes and commentaries, and generally finding an opportunity to 
demolish some preceding editor. The popularity of his name 
made these editions salable, and led to a favorable pecuniary re- 
sult. His circumstances were now highly prosperous. He en- 
joyed a pension of four hundred pounds a year from his former 
pupil, now Lord Grosvenor ; was appointed to two sinecure of- 
fices under the government, bringing in about nine hundred pounds 
per annum ; and his income from the Review, which, commenc- 
ing at two hundred pounds a year, speedily rose to nine hundred. 
Being of economical habits, it is not surprising that he succeeded 
in accumulating a fortune of nearly twenty-five thousand pounds. 
In 1824 Gilford resigned the editorship of the Review ; he would 
have done so at an earlier period if a proper successor could have 
been found. Infirmities had come heavily upon him; the sight 
of one eye was gone, and for many years he had been so oppress- 
ed by asthma as often to be deprived of the power of speech. 
Soon after relinquishing the editorship, a friend expressed a hope 
that he might recover and live several years ; to which he re- 
plied, " Oh no ; it has pleased God to grant me a much longer 
life than I had reason to expect, and I am thankful for it ; but 
two years more is its utmost duration." His words were pro- 
phetic ; only two years elapsed before he ceased to exist. Dur- 
ing the latter months of his life his debility was so extreme that 
he was incapable of the slightest exertion. He expired calmly 
and without a struggle on the 31st of December, 1826. He was 
interred in Westminster Abbey. The bulk of his property he be- 
queathed to the Reverend Mr. Cookesley, the son of his early ben- 
efactor. 

As a satirist, critic, and politician, Gilford was severe and un- 



WILLIAM GIFEOKD. 381 

sparing, and belonging, as he did, to a party tenacious of pow- 
er, had frequent occasions to indulge in the harshest comments ; 
but in private life he was quiet, retiring, and amiable ; he never 
forgot a kindness, and was an unalterable friend. In personal 
appearance he was remarkable, especially toward the close of his 
career, when, having lost an eye, a double intensity appeared to 
be imparted to the remaining one. He was short in stature ; his 
hair of a remarkably handsome brown color, and as glossy and 
full at the time of his death as at any previous period. His 
head was of a very singular shape, being by no means high, if 
measured from the chin to the crown, but of unusual horizontal 
length from the forehead to the back of the head. His forehead 
projected at right angles from his face in a very remarkable man- 
ner. In his habits he was secluded and studious ; not parsimo- 
nious, but economical, and disposed to lay one dollar on another. 



.£< 



m 







BENJAMIN WEST. 

Benjamin West, the earliest and most renowned of American 
painters, and an artist whose works command the attention of 
the world, was a native of Pennsylvania, and born in Chester 
County, near Springfield, in that state, on the 10th of October, 
1738. His family were Quakers, and emigrated from England 
to America in 1699. Benjamin's father remained in England to 
be educated, and did not join his family until he had reached his 
fifteenth year. 

At a very early age Benjamin gave evidence of art gifts. It 
is related that, in the month of June, 1745, when only seven 
years of age, he was left to take care of his little niece, who lay 
peacefully slumbering in a cradle by his side. The boy-artist sat 
watching her. Presently the baby smiled in its innocent sleep, 
and the supreme beauty of its arch tranquillity filled young 
Benjamin's breast with admiration. To give this expression, he 
seized a pen, and with red and black ink endeavored to transfer 
the beautiful picture to paper. When his mother returned she 
was surprised and delighted at the attempt, and, with the keen 



BENJAMIN WEST. 383 

eye of affection, detected a portrait of the sleeping infant. At 
this time it is said that West had never seen a picture or an en- 
graving, and most assuredly had never beheld any one attempting 
to copy the lineaments of nature. The latter part of the anecdote 
is probably reliable, but the first allegation may well be questioned. 
Soon after this occurrence Benjamin was sent to school. Pen 
and ink still constituted the objects of his amusement, and we 
may suppose that his school-books presented a highly pictorial 
appearance. From the Indians he learned the use of the red-and 
yellow colors with which they painted their belts and ornaments, 
but before this epoch in his artist career he depended on the most 
sombre effects. The colors he used were principally charcoal and 
chalk, mixed with the juice of berries. With these colors, laid 
on with the hair of a cat, drawn through a goose-quill, when about 
nine years of age he drew on a sheet of paper the portraits of a 
neighboring family, in which the delineation of each individual 
was sufficiently accurate to be immediately recognized by his 
father when the picture was first shown to him. When about 
twelve years of age he performed a more difficult task, and drew 
a portrait of himself, with his hair hanging loosely about his 
shoulders. The knowledge which he had gained from the In- 
dians extended his field of operations, and when he had obtained 
possession of a bit of indigo, which he coaxed out of his mother, 
he had the three primary colors to work with. 

The atmosphere of a Quaker house is not very congenial to the 
development of art, but West's parents appear to have been liberal- 
minded, and worthily proud of their son. His little productions 
adorned their dwelling, and attracted the attention of their visit- 
ors. In this way the father of General Wayne became acquaint- 
ed with the talents of the lad. He was so much pleased with 
the rough sketches he saw around him, that he asked the privi- 
lege of taking some of them home. The next day he saw young 
West, and presented him with six dollars — a magnificent sum to 
his fervid imagination. It was to this early reward that he at- 
tributed his subsequent artist career. Mr. Wayne was not the 
only admirer that the youthful artist possessed. A Mr. Penning- 
ton, of Philadelphia, who was related to the West family, paid a 
visit one day, and was astonished to find the apartments of the 
Quaker hung with drawings of birds and flowers, executed with 
native but untutored genius. To encourage the youth, he pre- 






384 SELF-MADE MEN. 

sented him with a box of colors and pencils. To these were added 
several pieces of canvas prepared for the easel, and six engravings 
by Greveling. Such a mine of treasure was beyond price to the 
young man. He could not sleep for thinking of it, and night and 
day nursed the gift with the most extreme fondness. Shortly aft- 
er this he went on a visit to Philadelphia, and for the first time be- 
held the impressive spectacle of a noble stream teeming with mag- 
nificent shipping. It made a deep impression on his young imagi- 
nation, and was the immediate cause of his first composition, a 
picturesque view of a river, with vessels floating on the surface, 
and cattle pasturing on its banks. Among the other wonders 
which he saw in the city was a picture by Williams, of Philadel- 
phia, which astonished and delighted him. The perusal of the 
works of Fresnoy and Eichardson did the rest. His future des- 
tiny was fixed in his own mind — he would become an artist. 

Returning to Springfield with the reputation of a prodigy, he 
received many commissions to paint portraits, for which, as we 
have seen, he displayed great natural aptitude. A gunsmith of 
the name of William Henry, who was of a literary turn, suggested 
to him that he should engage himself on something more impor- 
tant than portraits, and gave him the subject of " Socrates' Death" 
as one worthy of illustration. West seized the idea, and pro- 
duced his first historical picture. It attracted a good deal of at- 
tention, and led to the formation of many friendships which were 
afterward of great use to the young painter. Among these was 
that formed with Dr. Smith, provost of the college at Philadelphia, 
who was delighted to observe the efforts of the young artist, and 
offered to assist him in gaining an education, the want of which 
he now began to experience. The result led to Benjamin being 
transferred to the residence of his brother-in-law in Philadelphia. 

At the age of sixteen, it was determined among the friends, 
after long deliberations, that Benjamin should be allowed to cul- 
tivate the art of painting. In Philadelphia he was able to pur- 
sue his studies with many advantages. He had free access to all 
the famous pictures of the city, and was, of course, hugely de- 
lighted and impressed with what he saw, especially with a Mu- 
rillo in Governor Hamilton's collection. It was a St. Ignatius, 
and West copied it enthusiastically, before he even knew its au- 
thor or appreciated its art value. His application at this time 
was so great that his health became impaired, and he was for a 



BENJAMIN WEST. 385 

time stretched on a bed of sickness. The room in which he lay 
was darkened, and the only light that entered was through the 
cracks in ' the window-shutters. An anecdote is related of this 
time winch illustrates in a forcible manner his keen powers of 
reasoning and observation. As he was lying in bed, partly re- 
covered from a fever, he was surprised to see " the form of a 
white cow enter at one side of the roof, and, walking over the bed, 
gradually vanish at the other. The phenomenon surprised him 
exceedingly, and he feared that his mind was impaired by his dis- 
ease, which his sister also suspected, when, on entering to inquire 
how he felt himself, he related to her what he had seen. She 
soon left the room, and informed her husband, who accompanied 
her back to the apartment ; and as they were both standing near 
the bed, West repeated the story, exclaiming that he saw, at the 
very moment in which he was speaking, several little pigs run- 
ning along the roof. This confirmed them in the apprehension 
of his delirium, and they sent for a physician ; but his pulse was 
regular, the skin moist and cool, the thirst abated, and, indeed, 
every thing about the patient indicated convalescence. Still, the 
painter persisted in his story, and assured them that he then saw 
the figures of several of their mutual friends passing on the roof, 
over the bed, and that he even saw fowls picking, and the very 
stones of the street. All this seemed to them very extraordinary, 
for their eyes, not accustomed to the gloom of the chamber, could 
discover nothing ; and the physician himself, in despite of the 
symptoms, began to suspect that the convalescent was really de- 
lirious. Prescribing, therefore, a composing mixture, he took his 
leave, requesting Mrs. Clarkson and her husband to come away 
and not disturb the patient. After they had retired the artist got 
up, determined to find out the cause of the strange apparitions 
which had so alarmed them all. In a short time he discovered a 
diagonal knot-hole in one of the window-shutters, and upon plac- 
ing his hand over it, the visionary paintings on the roof disap- 
peared. This confirmed him in an opinion that he began to form, 
that there must be some simple natural cause for what he had 
seen, and having thus ascertained the way in which it acted, he 
called his sister and her husband into the room, and explained 
it to them." He profited by this investigation ; made a box with 
one of its sides perforated, and thus, without ever having heard 
of the invention, contrived a camera obscura. 

R 



386 SELF-MADE MEN. 

At Philadelphia West obtained much employment as a por- 
trait painter, and on the death of his mother, which occurred 
when he was about the age of eighteen, established himself in that 
profession, and by his skill and moderate prices (he used to charge 
twelve dollars) obtained a large number of patrons. Notwith- 
standing the hard work he performed in this way, he found time 
to execute an original work called "The trial of Susannah," and 
in this, as in the "Death of Socrates," the principal figures were 
carefully copied from living models. From Philadelphia West 
went to New York, still pursuing his profession with energy and 
success. During the eleven months he passed in the metropolis 
he painted another composition, entitled "A Student reading by 
Candle-light," and then, having sufficient means for the purpose, 
resolved to visit the classic shores of Italy. An opportunity soon 
occurred for taking ship to Leghorn, in company with a young 
gentleman, the son of a friend, who was going on the voyage for 
the benefit of his health. West was engaged on the portrait of 
Mr. Kelly, a merchant of New York, when he determined to sail 
from Philadelphia. He mentioned his plan to Mr. Kelly, who ap- 
proved it, paid him for the picture, and gave him a letter to his 
agents in Philadelphia. West presented the letter, and was as- 
tonished to find that it contained an order for fifty guineas, " a 
present to aid in his equipment for Italy." We repeat this anec- 
dote as an evidence of the good feeling and kindness which West 
received and undoubtedly deserved during his long career. West 
embarked in 1760, reached Leghorn in safety, and immediately 
proceeded to Rome, which he entered on the 10th of July, 1760. 
He never returned to America. 

West was provided with excellent letters of introduction, and 
was at once introduced to Cardinal Albani, who, although nearly 
blind, was considered a great connoisseur. An anecdote is related 
of the first interview with this potentate, which we give for what 
it is worth. The cardinal passed his hand over the face of the 
young artist, in order to judge of his features. He was satisfied. 
" This young savage has good features, but what is his complex- 
ion ? Is he black or white V 9 The English gentleman who intro- 
duced West replied that he was " very fair." ""What !" cried the 
astonished cardinal, " as fair as I am V The interrogation caused 
much merriment, the cardinal not being remarkable for his beauty 
in this respect. When it was found that the young man was nei- 



BENJAMIN WEST. 387 

ther black nor a savage, but fair, intelligent, and already an artist, 
he became the lion. 

One of West's best advisers at this period was Mengs, a cele- 
brated painter of the day. At his suggestion, he painted a por- 
trait of Mr. Robinson, afterward Lord Grantham. Mengs found 
much to commend in the effort, accompanying his praise with 
some sensible advice. " You have already the mechanical part 
of your art," he said; "what I therefore recommend to you is, 
examine every thing worthy of attention here, making drawings 
of some half dozen of the best statues ; then go to Florence, and 
study in the galleries ; then proceed to Bologna, and study the 
works of the Caracci ; afterward visit Parma, and examine atten- 
tively the pictures of Corregio ; and then go to Venice, and view 
the productions of Tintoretto, Titian, and Paul Veronese. When 
you have made this tour, return to Rome, paint an historical pic- 
ture, exhibit it publicly, and then the opinion which will be ex- 
pressed of your talents will determine the line of art which you 
ought to follow." It was some time before Mr. West was in a 
position to follow this judicious advice ; but, owing to the liberal- 
ity of his friends in America, he was at length able to do so under 
the most gratifying circumstances. He visited Florence, Bologna, 
and Venice, and on his return to Rome declared that the Apollo 
of Belvidere "was the exact resemblance of a young Mohawk 
warrior," and that the hieroglyphics on the Egyptian obelisk were 
exactly similar to those which appear on the wampum belts of the 
Indians. The object of his mission to Italy being now accom- 
plished, he began to make preparations for returning to America, 
but, previous to doing so, determined, in accordance with his fa- 
ther's wish, to visit England. Having passed through Savoy into 
France (where he found much to instruct him), Mr. West arrived 
in England on the 20th of August, 1763. 

In England Mr. West found so much encouragement that, con- 
trary to his first intention, he resolved to settle there. He became 
acquainted with Sir Joshua Reynolds, and Mr. Richard Wilson, 
the celebrated landscape, painter. He was introduced by Dr. 
Markham (afterward Archbishop of York) to Dr. Johnson and 
Mr. Burke, in the latter of whom he recognized the features of 
the chief of the Benedictine monks at Parma, and afterward dis- 
covered that they were actually brothers. In 1765, Dr. Newton, 
Bishop of Bristol, engaged him to paint " the Parting of Hector 



388 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and Andromache ;" while for Dr. Johnson, then Bishop of Wor- 
cester, he undertook " the Return of the Prodigal Son." These 
commissions, and others which came to him, established his posi- 
tion as a historical painter. It was so far recognized that Lord 
Rockingham offered the rising artist an engagement of three thou- 
sand five hundred dollars a year if he would undertake to embel- 
lish his family mansion with pictures. Liberal as was this offer, 
West declined it, thinking, correctly enough, that his best patrons 
would be the public. Feeling easy in his mind concerning his 
future prospects, West consulted his heart on a matter which had 
engaged it for several years. Prior to his departure from America 
he had contracted a sincere affection for a young lady of the name 
of Shewell, and had paid his suit with such success that he was 
accepted. Now that the honors and riches of the world were at 
his command, he desired to make her his wife. At first it was 
his intention to undertake a voyage to America for the purpose 
of effecting the marriage, but this was prevented by a kind inter- 
position of his father, who took the bride to England, where, on 
the 2d of September, 1765, she was wedded to the man of her 
choice. 

Dr. Drummond, Archbishop of York, became one of West's 
most zealous patrons, and for him he painted the "Agrippina 
landing with the ashes of Germanicus." After hearing the pas- 
sage of Tacitus in which is described all the circumstances of 
this mournful affair, and listening to the remarks of the prelate, 
our artist returned home, and composed a sketch for the picture, 
which was finished before going to bed. Next morning he carried 
it to the archbishop, who was both astonished and delighted to find 
his own ideas so forcibly endorsed by West. Perhaps for this rea- 
son he became doubly attached to our artist, and on the very first 
opportunity introduced him to the king, who graciously ordered a 
picture, " the Final Departure of Regulus from Rome," and read 
from Livy the passage which he wished illustrated. The friend- 
ship between the king and West, thus commenced, lasted for up- 
ward of forty years. He was frequently invited to spend the 
evening at Buckingham House, where he generally remained, 
conversing on the best means of promoting the study of the fine 
arts. It was in these conversations that the plan of the Royal 
Academy was first broached and discussed. An existing society, 
known as "the Society of Incorporated Artists," no longer an- 



BENJAMIN WEST. 389 

swered the requirements of the time. Dissensions had occurred, 
and many of the most prominent members had withdrawn. The 
moment was propitious ; the Royal Society was properly organ- 
ized, Sir Joshua Reynolds elected president, and on the 10th of 
December, 1768, became an established institution of the country. 
At the first exhibition of the infant society West's "Regulus" was 
exhibited, and obtained much applause. The king's next commis- 
sion was for " Hamilcar making his son Hannibal swear implaca- 
ble enmity to the Romans." In the mean time Mr. West had 
finished one of his most celebrated pictures, namely, " the Death 
of Wolfe," a picture which has become world-wide in its reputa- 
tion, but which created at the time a sensation even beyond its 
merits. This was owing to a daring innovation on the customs 
and usages of artists. Up to West's time it was usual in depict- 
ing modern heroic pieces to costume the characters in the flowing- 
robes of the ancient Greek and Roman heroes. West dissented 
from this time-honored custom, and, in spite of remonstrances 
from very high authorities, painted the death of Wolfe in the 
dress of the actual persons. He thought he should gain far more 
in the life and truth of expression than he should lose in pictur- 
esqueness and grace. The result showed his sound judgment. 
Reynolds, who had opposed the innovation, acknowledged its 
force and manliness. " West has conquered ; he has treated his 
subject as it ought to be treated ; I retract my objections. I 
foresee that this picture will not only become one of the most 
popular, but will occasion a revolution in art." The picture did 
become one of the most popular, and did occasion a revolution in 
art, the good effects of which we observe to the present day. 

It is unnecessary for the purposes of this sketch to dwell on 
each production of West's prolific pencil. He became firmly es- 
tablished in public favor, and each elaborate work which he pro- 
duced received the instant attention of the art world. The king's 
admiration for the great artist was unbounded ; and when he form- 
ed the design of erecting a magnificent oratory or private chapel 
at Windsor Castle, for the express purpose of illustrating the his- 
tory of revealed religion, West was selected to fill the panels. 
"No subtle divine," says Mr. Cunningham, "ever labored more 
diligently on controversial texts than did our painter in evolving 
his pictures out of this grand and awful subject. He divided it 
into four dispensations — the Antediluvian, the Patriarchal, the 



390 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Mosaical, and the Prophetical. They contained, in all, thirty-six 
subjects, eighteen of which belonged to the Old Testament, the 
rest to the New. They were all sketched, and twenty-eight were 
executed, for which West received, in all, twenty-one thousand 
seven hundred and five pounds. A work so varied, so extensive, 
and so noble in its nature was never before undertaken by any 
painter." 

On the death of Sir Joshua Reynolds, West was unanimously 
elected President of the Royal Academy, and continued in that 
honorable position to the time of his death. His first discourse 
was merely complimentary, but subsequently he delivered valua- 
ble dissertations on the principles of painting and sculpture, of 
embellishments and architecture ; on the taste of the ancients ; 
on the errors "of the moderns, and on composition in general. He 
concluded one of these lectures in the following complimentary 
terms : " That our annual exhibitions, both as to number and 
taste, ingrafted on nature and the fruit of mental conception, are 
such, that all the combined efforts in art on the Continent of Eu- 
rope in the same line have not been able to equal. To such at- 
tainments, were those in power but to bestow the crumbs from 
the national table to cherish the fine arts, we might pledge our- 
selves that the genius of Britain would in a few years dispute 
the prize with the proudest periods of Grecian or Italian art." 

When George the Third became superannuated, West's income 
of a thousand pounds per year was suddenly stopped, and the 
pictures in the chapel of "revealed religion" discontinued. Hav- 
ing thus lost the royal patronage, the president determined to ap- 
peal to the public, and he did so with eminent success. Some of 
his best pictures were put on exhibition, and crowds of people 
went to see them. One of the most remarkable was the famous 
picture of " Christ healing the Sick," which was originally exe- 
cuted for the Philadelphia Hospital, but which was subsequently 
purchased by the British Institution for the sum of three thou- 
sand guineas. West parted with the picture " on condition that 
he should be allowed to make a copy, with alterations." In the 
copy which he transmitted to Philadelphia, he not only made al- 
terations, but added an additional group. Its exhibition in the 
United States was attended with so much success that the com- 
mittee were actually enabled to enlarge the hospital for the re- 
ception of no less than thirty additional patients. 



BENJAMIN WEST. 391 

The death of Mrs. West, which event occurred on the 10th of 
December, 1817, was a severe blow for the aged artist. His own 
health began to decline, and his hand had lost some of its power. 
He felt the blow severely, and never entirely recovered from its 
effects. Three years later (11th of March, 1820), he departed 
this life without any fixed complaint, his cheerfulness uneclipsed, 
his mental faculties unimpaired, and with a mind serene and be- 
nevolent. Mr. Gait enables us to enter into details concerning 
this event : " The last illness of Mr. West was slow and languish- 
ing. It was rather a general decay of nature than any specific 
malady; and he continued to enjoy his mental faculties in per- 
fect distinctness upon all subjects as long as the powers of artic- 
ulation could be exercised. To his merits as an artist and a man 
I may be deemed partial, nor do I wish to be thought otherwise. 
I have enjoyed his frankest confidence for many years, and re- 
ceived from his conversation the advantages of a more valuable 
species of instruction, relative to the arts, than books alone can 
supply to one who is not an artist. While I therefore admit that 
the partiality of friendship may tincture my opinion of his char- 
acter, I am yet confident that the general truth of the estimate 
will be admitted by all who knew the man, or are capable to ap- 
preciate the merits of his works. 

" In his deportment Mr. West was mild and considerate ; his 
eye was keen, and his mind apt ; but he was slow and methodical 
in his reflections, and the sedateness of his remarks must often, in 
his younger years, have seemed to strangers singularly at variance 
with the vivacity of his look. That vivacity, however, was not 
the result of any particular animation of temperament ; it was 
rather the illuminations of his genius ; for, when his features 
were studiously considered, they appeared to resemble those which 
we find associated with dignity of character in the best productions 
of art. As an artist, he will stand in the first rank ; his name 
will be classed with those of Michael Angelo and Raffaelle ; but 
he possessed little in common with either. As the former has 
been compared to Homer and the latter to Virgil, in Shakspeare 
we shall perhaps find the best likeness to the genius of Mr. West. 
He undoubtedly possessed but in a slight degree that energy and 
physical expression of character in which Michael Angelo excelled, 
and in a still less degree that serene sublimity which constitutes 
the charm of Raffaelle's great productions, but he was their equal 



392 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



in the fullness, the perspicuity, and the propriety of his composi- 
tions. In all his great works, the scene intended to be brought 
before the spectator is represented in such a manner that the im- 
agination has nothing to supply. The incident, the time, and the 
place are there as we think they must have been ; and it is thi* 
wonderful force of conception which renders the sketches of Mr. 
West so much more extraordinary than his finished pictures. In 
the finished pictures we naturally institute comparisons in color- 
ing, and in beauty of figure, and in a thousand details which are 
never noticed in the sketches of this ilhistrious artist. But, al- 
though his powers of conception were so superior, equal in their 
excellence to Michael Angelo's energy or Raffaelle's grandeur, 
still, in the inferior departments of drawing and coloring he was 
one of the greatest artists of his age. It was not, however, till 
late in life that he executed any of those works in which he 
thought the splendor of the Venetian school might be judiciously 
imitated. At one time he intended to collect his works together, 
and to form a general exhibition of them all. Had he accom- 
plished this, the greatness and versatility of his talents would 
have been established beyond all controversy ; for unquestionably 
he was one of those great men whose genius can not be justly esti- 
mated by particular works, but only by a collective inspection of 
the variety, the extent, and the number of their productions." 

Added to his unquestionable genius, West had diligence and 
enthusiasm. He was at once a patient and an expeditious worker. 
At the time of his death he left upward of four hundred paintings 
and sketches in oil, many of them of a large size, besides more 
than two hundred original drawings in his portfolio. It was" cal- 
culated that, to exhibit all his productions, a gallery would be re- 
quired of four hundred feet in length, fifty in breadth, and forty 
in height. West's pictures were sold after his death for upward 
of twenty-five thousand pounds. During his life he received large, 
sums. From 1769 to 1779 he obtained £4126 for seventeen com- 
positions, seven of which were historical, and the remainder fam- 
ily portraits. For the religious subjects £21,705 were paid. For 
eight subjects illustrative of the history of Edward the Third he 
received £6930, while for some miscellaneous works, executed for 
the same patron, he received £1426. These sums, which were 
received from the king alone, are exclusive of innumerable others 
of equal importance, and amount in all, including sale, to upward 



BENJAMIN WEST. 393* 

of three hundred thousand dollars. The proceeds of his brush 
during his residence, in England could not have amounted to less 
than half a million of dollars. 

West was a kind and considerate countryman to all the Ameri- 
cans he met in England, and felt genially toward the land of his 
birth, although the circumstances which had surrounded his life 
led him to look on the Revolutionary war with great pain. He 
had received nothing but kindness from the mother country. 
Some of his most distinguished pupils were Americans, and he 
never failed to render them all the assistance that lay in his 
power. When Trumbull was arrested during the war by order 
of the British government, West immediately waited upon the 
king, and made known to his majesty his pupil's character and 
purposes, and received the assurance that, at all events, the per- 
sonal safety of the prisoner should be fully attended to. When 
Gilbert Stuart was in London, a young painter without resources, 
West not only afforded him direct pecuniary aid, but employed 
him in copying, and otherwise assisted him in his study of that 
branch of the art in which he afterward excelled his master. A 
few weeks after Allston's arrival in England he was introduced 
to Mr. West, and thus speaks of him in a letter : " Mr. West, to 
whom I was soon introduced, received me with the greatest kind- 
ness. I shall never forget his benevolent smile when he took me 
by the hand ; it is still fresh in my memory, linked with the last 
of like kind which accompanied the last shake of his hand when 
I took a final leave of him in 1818. His gallery was open to me 
at all times, and his advice always ready and kindly given. If 
he had enemies, I doubt if he owed them to any other cause than 
his rare virtue, which, alas for human nature, is too often deemed 
cause sufficient." 

Mr. West was buried with great pomp in St. Paul's Cathedral, 
beside the earthly remains of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Opie, and 
Barry. The pall was borne by noblemen, embassadors, and acad- 
emicians ; his two sons and grandson were chief mourners, and 
sixty coaches brought up the splendid procession. 

R 2 



JOHN FITCH. 

The life-stories of men of genius are often sad, and filled with 
incidents of cruelty and neglect which after-generations can only 
deplore. There is none sadder, more truly pitiable, than that of 
John Fitch. He was a man of pre-eminent force of character ; 
of native genius ; of strength and originality. But these charac- 
teristics carried with them restlessness, impetuosity, dissatisfac- 
tion, querulousness, and defiance. Such a spirit baffled its own 
soarings, and, moth-like, rushed more madly to destruction at the 
first sensation of pain. 

We have no intention in this paper to reopen the much-dis- 
cussed question of " who was the first inventor of the steam ves- 
sel." In our article on Fulton we have dropped into the judi- 
cious track of most modern inquirers, and awarded to that illus- 
trious man the honor of having first rendered steam navigation 
generally useful. On this point there can no longer be a doubt. 
But if the question of originality be mooted — if it be asked who 
was the most vigorous and original inventor, Fulton or Fitch, the 
answer would, we fancy, be in favor of Fitch. The former was 
a perfecter; he took the materials which already existed, and 
blended them with master hand. The latter was a creator ; he 
shaped things in his own mind, and brought them forth rudely fash- 
ioned, but pregnant with undeveloped strength. It has happen- 
ed in the world before, and will happen again, that the man who 
adapts receives more homage than he who invents. There is a 
common-sense reason why it should be so. The mass of mankind 
can not understand a theory ; their instruction must be of a prac- 
tical character. He who can impart this reaps the reward, even 
though it be merely an inculcation of the theory of his predeces- 
sor. 

John Fitch, of whose sad life we purpose to give a brief sketch 
(compiled chiefly from his own manuscripts in the Franklin Li- 
brary of Philadelphia), was born on the 21st of January, 1743, old 
style. His father was a farmer in good circumstances, but of an 
extremely harsh and parsimonious disposition. At four years of 
age John was sent to school, and, it is said, made some little prog- 



JOHN FITCH. 395 

ress in the usual branches of an English education. His father 
did not deem it necessary that he should be taught more than to 
read and write, and, when he had acquired these accomplishments, 
set him to work on the farm. But John was eager for knowl- 
edge, and greedily devoured all the books that lay in his way. 
When he was eleven years of age, he heard of a volume which he 
fancied would give him a knowledge of the whole world — this 
was Salmon's Geography. He repeatedly asked his father to get 
it for him to no purpose, but the latter consented to give him 
some headlands at the end of a field in which he might plant po- 
tatoes. Our hero was delighted with the prospect of earning the 
money for the coveted volume, and set to work with such assi- 
duity that, when the season came round for disposing of his stock, 
he collected the enormous sum of ten shillings, and intrusted the 
same to a merchant who dealt in New York to procure him the 
book. He did so ; but the book cost twelve shillings, and John 
had to run in debt two shillings, which he says gave him a great 
deal of uneasiness. He congratulated himself that he soon be- 
came the best geographer of the icorld that Connecticut could pro- 
duce, according to Salmon, at that time. 

Being of a " stunted" and weakly habit, which he attributed to 
the ill usage received from his father and brother, Fitch abandon- 
ed all idea of becoming an agriculturist. Salmon's Geography 
had given him a taste for travel, and he determined to go " down 
to the sea in ships." He made a couple of experiments in coast- 
ing-sloops ; but the cruelties and hardships of the maritime pro- 
fession discouraged him, and he abandoned it. His next experi- 
ment was in the clock-making business ; but after two years' serv- 
itude, during which time he was principally employed in running 
errands, he left, almost entirely ignorant of the business. Fitch 
made another attempt to learn it with a brother of his former 
employer ; but here, again, his wishes were frustrated. His em- 
ployer was jealous of the secrets of the trade ; worked in a dis- 
tant part of the room ; locked up his tools when he had finished, 
and forbade Fitch to meddle with them in any way. He was ill 
used in more ways than this. "Although I possessed a small 
appetite," he says, " I never was given sufficient to satisfy it, ex- 
cept on one occasion, when I managed to make a good hearty 
meal on potatoes. Being an inferior, I was helped last at the ta- 
ble ; the females would then discourse upon gluttony, and my 



396 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



master, hastily devouring his own food, would immediately return 
thanks for that which himself and others ate, as well as for that 
which his apprentice did not'" On leaving this curious specimen 
of humanity, he employed himself " in doing small brass-work," 
being unable to obtain employment as a journeyman watch and 
clock maker even with his very limited knowledge of those busi- 
nesses. He pursued his new vocation with industry, and at the 
end of two years found himself the master of fifty pounds. A 
portion of this capital he embarked in the potash business, but 
was unsuccessful, owing, in a great measure, to the unfairness and 
incapacity of one of his partners. On the 29th of December, 
1767, he entered into a matrimonial alliance with a Miss Lucy 
Roberts — a most unhappy match, their tempers being totally in- 
compatible. A separation soon became inevitable, the bitterness 
of which was aggravated by the circumstance that Mrs. Fitch took 
with her a child whom he "loved as dear as himself" 

After this event the subject of our sketch became a wanderer, 
and roamed from city to city in search of occupation. Unable to 
procure this in any familiar trade, he gave reins to his ingenuity, 
and became a button-maker, first at New Brunswick, and after- 
ward at Trenton. He appears to have been tolerably successful. 
During the Revolutionary war he repaired the arms of the Con- 
tinental army, became alternately the prisoner of the Indians and 
of the British, and was finally exchanged, and returned to the 
Atlantic towns. 

In 1785 Fitch first turned his thoughts to the subject of steam, 
with the intention of using it as a propeller of ordinary carriages 
on common roads. He pursued this idea, according to his own 
account, for one week, gave it over as impracticable, and turned 
his attention to steam navigation. From that time to the day of 
his death he pursued the latter subject with unremitting assiduity. 
" The perplexities and embarrassments through which it has caused 
me to wade," he writes, " far exceed any thing that the common 
course of life ever presented to my view ; and to reflect on the 
disproportion of a man of my abilities to such a task, I am to 
charge myself with having been deranged, and, had I not the most 
convincing proofs to the contrary, should most certainly suppose 
myself to have been non compos mentis at the time." The most 
remarkable evidence of the inventive genius of Fitch is found in 
the fact that the whole scheme of steam-travel by land and by 



JOHN FITCH. 397 

water, and also of the steam-engine itself, originated in his own 
mind, and was worked out by the fiery process of independent 
genius. In Europe the steam-engine was simply known as an 
amusing plaything, for the philosophic youth, Watts, had not yet 
developed its latent powers, or bridled them for the use of man. 
It was therefore by no means remarkable that Fitch had not 
heard of the invention. He says himself, " I did not know there 
was a steam-engine on earth when I proposed to gain a force by 
steam, and I leave my first drafts and descriptions behind, that 
you may judge whether I am sincere or not. A short time after 
drawing my first draft for a boat, I was amazingly chagrined to 
find at Parson Irwin's, in Buck's County, a drawing of a steam- 
engine ; but it had the effect to establish me in my other princi- 
ples, as my doubts at that time lay in the engine only." 

Men of capital are notorious for the distrust they exhibit to- 
ward inventors. They are too prone to look on them as mere 
visionaries — men who conceive wild ideas of what ought to be 
rather than what can be. It required time, patience, self-sacrifice, 
and heart-sickness to induce the possessors of wealth to listen to 
the schemes of a poor enthusiast like Fitch. In time, however, 
he succeeded in forming a small company for carrying out his 
plans. Dr. Thornton, who was a member of this company, has 
given in his "Account of the Origin of the Steam-boat" an inter- 
esting narrative of the manifold difficulties Fitch and his asso- 
ciates had to contend with, even after they had obtained a certain 
amount of protection from state privileges. "We worked inces- 
santly at the boat to bring it to perfection, and under the disad- 
vantages of never having seen a steam-engine on the principles 
contemplated, of not having a single engineer in our company or 
pay. We made engineers of common blacksmiths, and, after 
expending many thousand dollars, the boat did not exceed three 
miles an horn'. Finding great unwillingness in many to proceed, 
I proposed to the company to give up to any one the one half of 
my shares who would, at his own expense, make a boat to go at 
the rate of eight miles an hour, in dead water, in eighteen months, 
or forfeit all the expenditures on failing ; or I would engage with 
any others to accept these terms. Each relinquished one half of 
his shares, by making the forty shares eighty, and holding only as 
many of the new shares as he held of the old ones, and then sub- 
scribed as far as he thought proper to enter on the terms, by 



398 SELF-MADE MEN. 

which many relinquished one half. I was among the number, 
and in less than twelve months we were ready for the experiment. 

" The day was appointed, and the experiment made in the fol- 
lowing manner: a mile was measured in Front (Water) Street, 
Philadelphia, and the bounds projected at right angles as exactly 
as could be to the wharf, where a flag was placed at each end, 
and also a stop-watch. The boat was ordered under way at dead 
water, or when the tide was found to be without movement ; as 
the boat passed one flag, it struck, and at the same instant the 
watches were set off; as the boat reached the other flag, it was 
also struck, and the watches instantly stopped. Every precaution 
was taken before witnesses : the time was shown to all ; the ex- 
periment declared to be fairly made, and the boat was found to go 
at the rate of eight miles an hour, or one mile in seven minutes 
and a half, on which the shares were signed over with great satis- 
faction by the rest of the company. It afterward went eighty miles 
in a day." 

Notwithstanding the extremely satisfactory character of this 
experiment, the company became irritated at the continued out- 
lays, and, in the end, obstinately refused to continue the project. 
We can paint to ourselves the anxiety and agony of Fitch as he 
observed the shareholders one by one withdrawing from the con- 
cern. The consciousness of truth was all that sustained him ; he 
knew that he was not pursuing a chimera. In 1792, when the 
boat and his hopes appeared to be docked forever, he wrote a 
letter to Mr. Eittenhouse containing this memorable prophecy: 
" This, sir, will be the mode of crossing the Atlantic in time, 
whether I bring it to perfection or not." His enthusiasm on the 
subject never diminished for one moment. Steam was the con- 
stant theme of his discourse whenever he could prevail upon any 
one to listen to him. Upon one occasion he called on a smith 
who had worked at his boat, and, after dwelling some time upon 
his favorite topic, concluded with these words: "Well, gentlemen, 
although I shall not live to see the time, you will, when steam- 
boats will be preferred to all other means of conveyance, and 
especially for passengers ; and they will be particularly useful in 
navigating the River Mississippi." He then retired, when a per- 
son present observed, in a tone of deep sympathy, " Poor fellow ! 
what a pity he is crazy /" 

In the winter of 1792-1793, Fitch crossed the Atlantic on a 



JOHN FITCH. 399 

visit to France, whither he went warmly commended, and with 
strong hopes of success. He was cordially received by the gov- 
ernment, and assistance was offered to him. His usual ill luck 
interposed, however. Throes of the approaching revolution dis- 
tracted the attention of the ministers, and poor Fitch was laid 
aside for subjects of political importance. Dejected, and with 
scarcely a hope left, he crossed the Channel to London, and, with- 
out accomplishing any thing in that metropolis, soon afterward re- 
turned to his native land, so poor that he had, it is said, to work 
his way home as a common sailor. He landed in Boston in 1794 
in utter destitution, and, but for the hospitality of a brother-in- 
law, might have perished from actual want. Three years later he 
made a journey to the "West, to see after some grants of lands 
which had been made to him for services rendered to the State 
of Kentucky as a surveyor, a knowledge of which business Fitch 
imbibed while residing on his father's farm. These grants had 
been long neglected, and, as many settlements had been made on 
them, it was not without difficulty that he obtained possession of 
them. A number of suits had to be instituted, and the delays 
and uncertainties of the law contributed to his other vexations. 
He became irascible and eccentric, dressed himself in a peculiar 
way, and excited the observation of the passers-by. His health 
began to decline ; he was easily irritated, and, when touched on 
the subject of steam navigation, expressed himself with a warmth 
which exposed him to the ridicule of the idle and unfeeling. 
" When excited by his theme," says Mr. Whittlesey, in his biog- 
raphy, " his power over language was great, his remarks power- 
ful, eloquent, and convincing ; but he asserted, and perhaps truly, 
that the generation in which he lived was incapable of compre- 
hending his invention. His expectations were fixed upon poster- 
ity; and with an abiding confidence that the steam-boat would 
bless and astonish his successors, he reserved for them that fame 
which he was not disposed to ask, but to demand. It was with 
such sentiments that he inclosed the manuscripts and drawings 
presented to the Philadelphia Library, and left an injunction that 
they should not be opened until thirty years after his death." 

He appears to have lost all hope from this time. Weary, and 
anxious for the rest which the grave could alone give, he aban- 
doned himself to habits of obliviousness, fully conscious that they 
would soon lead him to " that bourne whence no traveler re- 



400 SELF-MADE MEN. 

turns." In June, 1798, lie executed his last will and testament, 
and in July following it was admitted to probate. His death was 
in one or other of the two months — which is not known. The 
landlord of the inn where he resided procured a cherry coffin for 
the remains of his unfortunate boarder, and, attended by a few 
friends, carried it to the church-yard of Bardstown. No monu- 
ment, no headstone, no rough tablet carved by hands of affection 
marked the spot, and in a little while it was forgotten. 

Fitch was a man of uncommon stature, being six feet two inch- 
es in height, erect and full in carriage, his head slightly bald, but 
not gray, his manner dignified, distant, and imposing. His coun- 
tenance was pleasing, with an eye remarkably black and piercing. 
" To strangers his manners had never been prepossessing, but to 
men of intelligence, who could comprehend his projects, he proved 
a most interesting companion. As a friend, he was faithful and 
devoted while the friendship lasted, carrying his efforts in behalf 
of others beyond the line of worldly prudence." 

Misfortune pursued Fitch even after death. A number of pa- 
pers, drawings, etc. , to which he referred as evidence of the orig- 
inality and priority of his plans, were destroyed by fire, and the 
first model of his steam-boat, made in 1785, has been lost, so that 
his claims as an original inventor are always liable to be disputed, 
especially as the fire in the Patent Office destroyed many other 
proofs of his originality. Truly a more unfortunate man has 
never lived. 







PATEICK HENEY. 

When we take up the newspaper of a morning, and find the 
first page filled with a closely-printed speech of some aspiring or- 
ator, who does not, perhaps, much interest us, we are very apt to 
lay the sheet aside and say there is nothing in it, indifferent to 
the fact that a hundred years hence it will be prized as a docu- 
ment of inestimable value. The appetite for long speeches belongs 
to the past or to the future, and can only be aroused in the present 
day by events of vital importance to the Commonwealth, and then 
only by men of the highest intellectual capacity. The newspaper 
editor has to a terrible extent superseded the orator, and makes a 
paragraph where of old our grandfathers made a speech. Every 
thing is brief and rapid, to suit the rail-road speed of the age. 
Oratory in its pure state — that is to say, the spontaneous utter- 
ance of noble thoughts and magnificent images as the symbolical 
representatives of coarser things, is almost unknown to us. If.a 
man wants to make a long speech now, he toils at it in the closet, 
builds it on the most raking and logical model, rivets it with 
sharp-pointed facts, and takes good care not to launch it on the 
stormy waters of debate before it is thoroughly sound and sea- 






402 SELF-MADE MEN. 

worthy. The newspapers print it at length in one column, and 
condense it in another, so that, like Webster's Dictionary, the stu- 
dent can either take it in bulk or in miniature. No arrangement 
could be more happy. The time-pressed merchant gets the points 
from the editorial summary, and the historian gets the substance 
in the verbatim report. What if a few people do go to sleep over 
the latter ? Is there any thing more comfortable than being talk- 
ed to sleep ? 

It was far different in the days of Patrick Henry — a great man, 
whose marvelous powers of oratory were exercised at a time when 
men's eyes gazed earnestly into the inspired face of the orator, 
and men's thirsty souls panted for words of patriotism. There 
were no newspapers then to cool down the enthusiasm of the ora- 
tion by after-breakfast comments on it. People came from afar 
to hear it fresh from the speaker's lip, for that was the only fount 
at which it could be quaffed in its purity. They crowded the 
court-house in anticipation of the event. They endured the press- 
ure of contending thousands, and considered themselves fortunate 
if they were rewarded with a glimpse of the orator, and caught a 
few of his glowing sentences. They were dragged out fainting to 
the open air, and were again newly stifled by eager crowds press- 
ing around them to hear by repetition what could not otherwise 
be enjoyed. Every auditor, in fact, was a sort of newspaper, and 
circulated his report to the best of his ability. He was at once 
a man of influence and consideration. People stopped him at the 
street corner with courtesies to betray him into copiousness. If 
he came from the country, his return home was little else than a 
triumphal progress attended with all sorts of ovations and hos- 
pitalities. 

And the orator, what was he I In the days of Patrick Henry 
he was the power. There were but few newspapers, and they 
were dry and unreliable. The orator supplied their place with 
liberality and the inspiration of life. His opinions, if they were 
not always in advance of the day, were tinctured, at least, with all 
the day could supply. He inculcated them with the earnestness 
of a prophet, and his personal influence was commensurate with 
the impression he was capable of making on his hearers. It can 
scarcely be estimated now. The many-tin ted rays of individual 
opinion which are brought to bear on public topics, resulting from 
the habit of critical scrutiny and suspicion, detract from the indi- 



PATKICK HENRY. 403 

vidual light which the modern orator can throw on them, no mat- 
ter how brightly it may shine. Demosthenes and Cicero would 
find it difficult to preserve their reputation — at all events, their 
popularity, in these times. The newspapers would handle them 
with the dreadful weapons of common sense, and would batter 
their tropes and figures about their heads. But their speeches 
would be reported with marvelous accuracy, and the future his- 
torian could turn to them with the certainty of finding ample ma- 
terial for forming his own judgment of the merits of earlier crit- 
icism. 

It is the absence of this invaluable record that we have most 
to regret in treating the life of Patrick Henry. We know by 
the influence he had on his times that he was one of the most ex- 
traordinary orators the world has ever produced, but unfortunate- 
ly this knowledge is based entirely on tradition. We can not fur- 
nish an adequate specimen of his matchless eloquence. The few 
imperfect reports of his speeches that have been handed down to 
us are evidently wretched reflexes of the burning language the 
orator employed. We shall endeavor to use these to the best ad- 
vantage, but the reader must never forget that they are entirely 
inadequate to the reputation of Patrick Henry. We can only 
judge of the eminence of that great man by the mighty influence 
he exercised on, and the concurrent testimony of his contempora- 
ries. Jefferson, whose opinion is sufficient to endorse every tra- 
dition, says that "he was the greatest orator that ever lived," 
and " the person who, beyond all question, gave the first impulse 
to the movement which terminated in the Revolution ;" sufficient, 
in all reason, to interest the American reader in the biography we 
are about to write. 

Patrick Henry was the second son of John and Sarah Henry, 
and one of a family of nine children. He was born on the 29th 
of May, 1736, at the family seat called Studley, in Hanover Coun- 
ty. Virginia. His father, John Henry, was a native of Aberdeen, 
Scotland, and emigrated to Virginia about the year 1730. He 
was followed, some years after, by his brother Patrick, a clergy- 
man of the Church of England. Both brothers were remarkable 
for their loyalty to the king and his church. John Heniy mar- 
ried the widow of Colonel Syme, a native of Hanover County, 
and daughter of the family of Winston, a lady remarkable for the 
ease and brilliancy of her conversational powers. Shortly after 






404 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Patrick Henry's birth the family removed to another seat in the 
same county, then called Mount Brilliant, now The Retreat. His 
parents were by no means wealthy, but they were comfortably 
situated, and by the exercise of economy could make both ends 
meet in a genteel way. They moved in the best society, and 
were on intimate terms with all the big guns of the colony. Pat- 
rick was sent to an " Oldfield" school, to keep him out of mis- 
chief, until he was ten years of age, and then, having acquired the 
elements of learning, was taken home to prosecute his studies un- 
der the care of his father. It was with the greatest difficulty 
that the rudiments of the Latin tongue were implanted in his 
mind, and with still greater difficulty that he mastered the crook- 
ed characters of the Greek alphabet, beyond which he never pro- 
ceeded. He was a very idle scholar, and never put his heart in 
his studies. They were tasks to him in the severest sense of the 
word, and he flew from them with delight. The only study for 
which he seems to have had some kind of liking was the mathe- 
matics, in which he is said to have made considerable progress. 
It is certain, however, that for five years he made but feeble ef- 
fort to cultivate his mind. When fourteen years old (1750), he 
accompanied his mother in a carriage to hear Samuel Davies 
preach, whose eloquence, it is said, made a deep impression on his 
mind. This orator was celebrated for his patriotic sermons, and 
it is more than probable that he first kindled the fire and afford- 
ed the model of Henry's elocution. Throughout his lifetime Hen- 
ry declared that he always held Davies to be the greatest orator 
he had ever heard. 

His personal appearance at this time is described as coarse, 
and his manners awkward, his dress neglected, and his faculties 
entirely obscured by habitual indolence. In mixed companies he 
contributed little or nothing to the conversation — a good sign, for 
it showed that he was modest. He preferred listening to the talk 
of others, and never failed to improve himself by it. He possess- 
ed, like all great men, a fine memory, and could easily recall what 
had been said by any speaker. One of his most favorite amuse- 
ments was to analyze the characters of his friends, and observe in 
what respects they differed from each other. Patrick Henry's 
character at this time may be summed up in few words. He was 
a modest, observant man, fond of seeing every thing and of hear- 
ing every thing, but bashful, and afraid of thrusting himself for- 



PATRICK HENRY. 405 

ward. Unlike most young men, he was utterly indifferent to 
dress ; a new coat had no charm in his eye ; and at any time 
he would rather have had a new fish-line than a new pair of shoe- 
buckles. He was nearly six feet high, spare and raw-boned, with 
a slight stoop in the shoulders. His complexion was dark and 
sallow, and his general expression grave, thoughtful, and pene- 
trating. 

Such was Patrick Henry at the age of fifteen. Finding that 
he was not likely to make much progress in literary or profes- 
sional pursuits, his father undertook to establish him in trade. 
It was a very common mistake in those days, and even in these, 
to suppose that a less amount of shrewdness was needed for the 
conduct of a business than for the pursuit of a profession. After 
a year's drilling in the counting-room of a neighboring merchant, 
Patrick and his brother William opened a small store. It is not 
easy to imagine a firm with less practicability at its disposal. 
The confinement soon began to annoy Patrick, and he relieved it 
as much as possible by making the store the gathering-place of all 
the gossips in the town. The class of people who patronized him 
were careless and often unprincipled, depending more on their 
power of persuasion than on their reputation for credit. Neither 
Patrick nor his brother were good at making bargains — indeed, 
the latter seems to have been more helplessly indolent and inca- 
pable than the former. In about a year the concern failed. Will- 
iam retired at once, while Patrick was employed for two or three 
years afterward in bringing it to a close. Considering the short 
time it had run, it required a great deal of winding up. All the 
future orator had gained by his first adventure in commerce was 
a knowledge of the violin and flute, which (impressed with the 
necessity of amusing himself) he had studied in business hours — 
rather expensive accomplishments, one would think. 

At the age of eighteen he married a Miss Skelton, the daughter 
of a poor but honest farmer in the neighborhood. Young Henry 
was now, by the joint assistance of his father and father-in-law, 
started in life again. Trade having failed, it was determined to 
try agriculture. He was furnished with a small farm, and also 
one or two slaves to assist him in cultivating it. But it was of 
no use. His want of skill, his indolent habits, and his aversion 
to systematic labor of any kind, still pursued him. After an ex- 
periment of two years he sold off his farm at a sacrifice, and once 



406 SELF-MADE MEN. 

more embarked every thing in merchandise. But, unfortunately, 
he had not forgotten his former method of conducting business. 
The flute and the violin were again called into requisition ; all 
the idle politicians of the place gathered on the old spot ; and oc- 
casionally the store would be shut up altogether, when his favor- 
ite sports in the open air called him forth. For the latter he al- 
ways had the most passionate love, and, strange to say, preferred 
pursuing them alone. He would lie for hours beneath the shad- 
ow of a tree, watching with the calm earnestness of a sportsman 
for the expected bite, or, gun in hand, would wait in the same 
still manner for a chance shot at a passing deer. Whether it was 
a contemplative habit, or simply a lazy one, that made him like 
this kind of quiet sport, it is impossible to say. Under such man- 
ifold disadvantages, it is not remarkable that his second mercan- 
tile experiment turned out even more disastrous than his first. 
He was now thrown upon the world not only with a mass of 
debts upon his shoulders, but with a wife to support, and with 
relations who certainly could not be pleased with his conduct, 
or disposed to assist him again. It is probable that he felt the 
degradation to which a course of mere selfish indolence had re- 
duced him. Idleness and its necessary associations had twice 
brought him to bankruptcy ; and now, in his twenty-fourth year, 
he was absolutely without the means of making a living. It is 
from this crisis that he belongs to our biographies of "self-made 
men." He had sacrificed all the advantages of favorable birth 
and early associations, and had paid the penalty of wanton loss 
of time and indolence. Most men, under such circumstances, 
would have sunk beneath the load of ignominious misfortune ; but 
Henry determined to bear up against it, and commence the world 
anew. Notwithstanding his ill luck in trade, he was undoubted- 
ly a stronger man for the contests of the world now than at any 
former period of his life. He had gained that most expensive of 
all knowledge, the knowledge of mankind. He knew thoroughly 
the habits and feelings of those by whom he was surrounded, and 
could adapt his sail to the first wind which should blow him for- 
tune. He had many friends too. They might shake their heads 
when his name was mentioned, and say that he was a good-for- 
naught, but for all that they were willing to help him along when- 
ever the opportunity occurred for doing so, for they knew that he 
was no man's enemy but his own. 



PATRICK HENRY. 407 

"While he was engaged in his second mercantile experiment he 
cultivated a taste for reading, and studied attentively the geog- 
raphy, history, and political memorials of his native state, the his- 
torians of Greece and Rome, and, in particular, the English trans- 
lation of Livy. The latter, indeed, was a kind of manual with 
him, and he never failed to read it at least once a year. 

After his second failure, Henry was, as we have seen, entirely 
thrown on the world. His young wife returned to the house of 
her father, who was now the proprietor of a small hotel at Han- 
over Court-house. It is probable that Patrick accompanied her, 
and to this circumstance may be traced the oft-repeated asser- 
tion that he was, for a portion of his life, at least, a bar-tender. 
The biographers do not dwell on this event with proper attention. 
It was the cause, undoubtedly, of all his later career ; for it 
was while in this humble station that he first came in contact 
with members of the legal profession who frequented the court- 
house, and thus, as it were, gained an insight into the mysteries 
of their vocation. There must have been small and great lawyers 
in those days as now, and Henry no doubt fancied that if he 
could not be the one, he might, at least, rival the shrewdness of 
the other. He therefore determined to embrace the legal profes- 
sion without delay. He had several inducements. His father 
was on the bench ; his father-in-law in a position to influence a 
considerable number of small clients, and he himself popular with 
the masses. 

Henry's preparation for the new profession did not give prom- 
ise of future excellence. He devoted to this study the ridicu- 
lously brief period of six iveeks, and then presented himself to the 
examiners for license to practice. He met with some opposition, 
but, by the exercise of some tact and persuasion (for both of which 
he was remarkable), he succeeded in getting a license. For three 
years after this he devoted himself to the interests of the few cli- 
ents who would trust their causes to his hands. He was thus 
able to make a scanty living, and for the first time to taste the 
sweet reward of honest industry. He was economical, and this 
important change in his habits induced many of his former friends 
to assert that he grew mean in his old age. The truth of the 
matter was simply that he had learned the value of money in the 
hard and bitter school of poverty. 

The first cause that brought Henry prominently before the pub- 



408 SELF-MADE MEN. 

lie, made him, at the same time, famous. This was none other 
than the celebrated Parsons' Cause. The Parsons' Cause was an 
action by the Reverend James Maury against the collector of tax- 
es for Hanover County and his sureties, for the recovery of dam- 
ages for the non-payment of a certain quantity of tobacco alleged 
to be due to him on account of his salary. The action sprung 
out of a warm controversy which had lately arisen between the 
clergy and the rate-payers of the colony. The Church of En- 
gland was at this time the legal church establishment, and, by an 
early act of the Assembly, the salary of each minister was fixed 
at 16,000 pounds of tobacco ; or if, for convenience, they preferred 
to have cash, they could take 16,000 twopences ($640) — two- 
pence per pound being the ordinary price of tobacco. The clergy 
were in the habit of commuting the delivery of the article in kind 
for a money payment calculated on this standard. They had a 
right, however, by virtue of a statute of the colony, to demand 
payment in the article itself, if they felt so disposed. It was in 
view of this right that the Reverend Mr. Maury brought his ac- 
tion, and the reason why he was anxious to claim the right was 
simply this : the crop of tobacco had fallen short, and the price 
had greatly risen in consequence. The clergy claimed the ad- 
vantage of this fluctuation in the market, and contended that the 
planters had no right to receive fifty or sixty shillings a hundred 
for their tobacco, while they paid their debts due in that article at 
the old price of sixteen shillings and eightpence. There was a 
side issue concerning the validity of an act of the Legislature, but 
it is unimportant for our purposes. The popular feeling was 
strongly in favor of the planters and against the clergy. It was 
on behalf of the former that Mr. Henry held his brief. The suit 
against the collector of the county was gained by the clergy be- 
fore Mr. Henry had any thing to do with it, and the question now 
was merely as to the amount of damages. The leading counsel 
of the planters left Mr. Henry to argue the question at the next 
court, imagining, in all probability, that no farther victory was 
to be achieved worthy his steel. The case came on for trial on 
the 1st of December, 1763, before the County Court of Hanover, 
in which the father of Henry sat as presiding magistrate. The 
clergy appeared in full force, and the position of the young bar- 
rister became in the highest degree embarrassing, not only be- 
cause he had to speak in open court before his father as presid- 



PATRICK HENRY. 409 

ing magistrate, but because he had to stretch his unfledged wings 
in an atmosphere already darkened by defeat. Among the clergy 
who came to hear the argument was the Rev. Patrick Henry, un- 
cle to our orator, who had himself commenced a suit against the 
collector, and who w r as, therefore, peculiarly and pecuniarily inter- 
ested in the result of the proceedings. The fact that Henry was 
not employed by his uncle is a sufficient proof that little was ex- 
pected of him, even by those who knew him most intimately. On 
seeing his relative approach, Henry walked up to him, and express- 
ed his regret at seeing his uncle there. " Why so I" inquired the 
uncle. " Because," replied Henry, " I fear that, as I have never 
yet spoken in public, I shall be too much overawed by your pres- 
ence to do justice to my clients. Besides," he added, " I shall be 
under the necessity of saying some hard things of the clergy, which 
it may be unpleasant for you to hear." "As to your saying hard 
things of the clergy," said the old gentleman, good-naturedly, " I 
advise you to be cautious, as you will be more likely to injure 
your own cause than theirs. As to my leaving the ground, I 
fear, my boy, with such a cause to defend, my presence will do 
you but little harm or good. Since, however, you seem to think 
otherwise, and desire it of me so earnestly, you shall be gratified." 
He then entered his carriage and drove home. 

The case came on. The opposing counsel behaved with the 
magnanimity of a man certain of gaining the day. He was full, 
fair, liberal, and eloquent. Now came Mr. Henry's turn. He 
rose from his seat with trepidation, and felt and looked thorough- 
ly uncomfortable. It was with difficulty that he contrived to 
blunder through the exordium of his speech ; but, when he had 
got thus far, a sudden change came over his whole appearance. 
His attitude, by degrees, became lofty and erect, his eye grew lu- 
minous, his hands swept the air with graceful curvings, and men- 
tally and physically he seemed to expand with inspiration and di- 
vine force. Wirt says that "the people, whose countenances had 
fallen as he rose, had heard but a very few sentences before they 
began to look up ; then to look at each other with surprise, as if 
doubting the evidence of their own senses ; then, attracted by some 
strong gesture, struck by some majestic attitude, fascinated by the 
spell of his eye, the charm of his emphasis, and the varied and 
commanding expression of his countenance, they could look away 
no more. In less than twenty minutes they might be seen in 

S 



410 SELF-MADE MEN. 

every part of the house, on every bench, in every window, stoop- 
ing forward from their stands in death-like silence, their features 
fixed in amazement and awe, all their senses listening and riveted 
upon the speaker, as if to catch the last strain of some heavenly 
visitant." Unfortunately, this remarkable speech is not preserved. 
That it was of marvelous power, and filled with strong appeals to 
the passions of the hearers, does not admit of a doubt. The jury 
were so moved by it that, disregarding the admitted rights of the 
plaintiff, they returned a verdict of one penny damages. A motion 
was made for a new trial, but the court overruled it. No sooner 
was the cause decided than the people seized the fortunate advo- 
cate, and carried him about on their shoulders, amid the wildest 
excitement and applause. We can only judge properly of this 
initial effort of the young orator by the effect it had on the public 
mind. This must, indeed, have been enormous. For years and 
years afterward the Virginians used to say of an eloquent man, 
"He is almost equal to Patrick Henry when he plead against the 
Parsons." 

By a single bound Henry had thus reached a grand and envi- 
able position in the public regard. He was looked on as the 
representative of popular rights, and became identified with the 
people. In those days, silly class-distinctions existed to a per- 
nicious degree, and it was a triumph for the masses that they 
could claim such a man as Henry for their champion against their 
wealthy, aristocratic, and overbearing neighbors. As an orator, 
he could desire no greater distinction than to be the idol of the 
masses, from whom he knew full well all power must eventually 
come. 

Henry found no difficulty in getting practice after his triumph 
in the Parsons' cause, and, in order to extend his field of opera- 
tions, he removed to the County of Louisa. Here he resumed his 
professional labors, diversifying them occasionally by a hunting 
tour in the woods, but keeping steadily on the newly-discovered 
path to fortune. He was not free from occasional difficulties, 
and still had to struggle against want. But he had a hopeful 
and stout heart within, and did not despair of victory in the 
end. He had frequent cause to repent his early want of applica- 
tion, and was more than once humiliated by a consciousness that 
men far inferior to himself succeeded in gaining victories over 
him simply on account of technical knowledge, which he had 



PATRICK HENRY. 411 

neglected, but which they possessed. It was in addressing the 
jury that Henry shone to best advantage, and, consequently, it 
was on criminal days that he most distinguished himself. Judge 
Lyons, of Virginia, was accustomed to say that he could write a 
letter, or draw a declaration or plea at the bar with as much ac- 
curacy as he could in his office, under all circumstances, except 
when Patrick rose to speak; but that, whenever he rose, he was 
obliged to lay down his pen, and could not write another word 
until the speech was finished. 

There was no event of importance to draw out the rare powers 
of our orator until the passage of the famous Stamp Act, in Janu- 
ary, 1765. The object of this measure was, as every one knows, 
to raise a revenue by taxing the colonies, and the result of the 
policy which suggested it was the war of Independence. On the 
rumor that such a measure was in contemplation, the Virginia 
House of Burgesses prepared three remonstrances, to the king, 
to the House of Lords, and to the Commons of England, but they 
received no attention. The Stamp Act was ordered to go into 
effect in November, 1765. Henry was a member of the House 
of Burgesses, and had been elected to that honorable post to rep- 
resent the people, who, to tell the truth, were- somewhat oppressed 
by the " cold shade of aristocracy." At such a crisis he felt him- 
self under the necessity of giving expression to the public indig- 
nation thus provoked by the tyranny of the British government. 
Consequently, he brought forward his celebrated resolutions on 
the Stamp Act. They were brief, plain, and earnest, and asserted 
that the General Assembly of the colony had the sole right and 
power to lay taxes and impositions upon the inhabitants, and that 
any attempt to vest such power in any person or persons whatso- 
ever, other than the General Assembly aforesaid, had a manifest 
tendency to destroy British as well as American freedom. After 
a stormy debate, the resolutions were carried by a majority of one 
or two only. It was sufficient for the purpose. The great point 
of resistance to British taxation was established in the colonies, 
and it was this, as Henry remarks, "which brought on the war, 
and finally separated the two countries, and gave independence to 
ours." Of the speech made by Henry at this debate there is no 
satisfactory record. It was vehement and patriotic, beyond a 
doubt. A passage from the close has been often quoted, and, as 
it is thoroughly authenticated, may be given here. He dwelt 




412 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



upon the danger which tyrants suffer from the indignation their 
acts provoke. " Cassar," said he, "had his Brutus, Charles the 
First his Cromwell, and George the Third — " Here the orator 
was interrupted by loud cries of "Treason i Treason ! " He paused 
for a moment, and then continued with perfect calmness, "and 
George the Third may profit by their example. If this be treason, 
make the most of it." 

This was Patrick Henry's first appearance as an orator on pure- 
ly political topics. It is a rather singular circumstance, remarks 
Dr. Everett, in his very admirable memoir, that in this depart- 
ment, as in that of legal practice, no subsequent effort seems to 
have surpassed, or even quite equaled in immediate effect, the 
first. His speech in the Continental Congress soon after its or- 
ganization called forth the strongest admiration. Many of his 
speeches in the Virginia Convention on the Federal Constitution 
were received with unbounded enthusiasm, and produced very 
extraordinary results. His argument in the British Debt case, 
which occupied three days, is analyzed at great length by Mr. 
Wirt, and dwelt upon as a sort of masterpiece ; but, even at the 
present time, a Virginian who is requested to mention the leading 
titles of Henry's glory, appeals without hesitation to the speeches 
on the Stamp Act and the Parsons' cause. The peculiar circum- 
stances attending each of these cases may have contributed some- 
thing to give them their comparative importance ; but, indepen- 
dently of any other cause, there is a certain freshness in the first 
efforts of a powerful mind which gives them an advantage over 
those of later years, that, on careful analysis, may appear, as works 
of science and art, fully equal, if not superior. 

Although the British government repealed the Stamp Act on 
account of the opposition that had been raised to it in the colonies, 
it was soon apparent that the principles of that opposition were 
not in the slightest degree recognized, and that the British gov- 
ernment still claimed the right of taxing the colonies. Duties 
were imposed upon various articles of general use — tea among 
others. A riot took place in Boston, and an armed demonstra- 
tion was made by the troops. A quick succession of events of 
this character greatly excited the public mind. It would be wrong 
to say that the idea of total separation from the mother country 
was entertained by the mass of the people, but a growing dislike 
to the English government began to pave the way for it. Some 



PATRICK HENRY. 413 

few advanced minds — among the number Henry's — began to see 
that these things could only end in a vital struggle and inde- 
pendence. 

The colonies were now in such a critical condition, especially 
the eastern ones, that it was considered necessary to call a general 
Congress, at which deputies should meet to discuss the state of 
public affairs, and determine on a unanimous course of action. 
On the 4th of September, 1774, the old Continental Congress met 
at Philadelphia. Among the deputies from Virginia were George 
Washington and Patrick Heniy. We have again to lament the 
absence of any authentic record of the speeches made on this oc- 
casion. They are represented by Mr. Wirt, on the authority of 
those who heard them, as having been in the highest degree pow- 
erful and impressive. Henry, however, broke down in the routine 
work of the Congress. He was requested to draw up a petition 
to the king. He did so, but it was found so unsatisfactory that 
another one had to be prepared in its place. Judge Chase, of 
Maryland, who was a member of this Congress, on hearing the 
speeches of Henry and Lee, walked across the floor to the seat 
of his colleague, and said to him, in an under tone, "We may 
as well go home ; we are not able to legislate with these men." 
But, after their talent for transacting the public affairs had been 
tested, the judge was heard to remark, " I find, after all, they are 
but men, and, in mere matters of business, but very common men." 

On returning home from this Congress Mr. Henry was, of 
course, closely questioned by his friends as to the other members. 
He was asked, among other things, whom he thought the greatest 
man in Congress. "If you speak of eloquence," said Henry, 
"Mr. Rutledge, of South Carolina, is by far the greatest orator; 
but if you speak of solid information and sound judgment, Colonel 
Washington is unquestionably the greatest man on the floor." 

On the 20th of March, 1775, a convention of Virginia delegates 
(the second) assembled at Richmond. Henry was, of course, 
among the number. Resolutions were introduced expressive of 
the sentiments of the colonies concerning certain matters, and 
ending with the hope of a speedy restoration of peace and good- 
will. Henry objected to these resolutions on the ground that they 
were too tame for the crisis. He introduced another series, which 
lie conceived to be more to the point. The last resolution was 
as follows : " Resolved, therefore, that this colony be immediate- 



414 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



ly put into a state of defense, and that a committee be raised to 
prepare a plan for embodying, arming, and disciplining such a 
number of men as may be sufficient for that purpose." The Con- 
vention was not prepared for such decided steps, and the resolu- 
tions were warmly opposed, even by men who were patriotic and 
keenly alive to the critical state of affairs. Mr. Henry took the 
ground that it was impossible to remain longer happily united to 
England, and in strengthening this position delivered one of the 
most famous speeches ever uttered by an American orator. " Mr. 
President," said he, " it is natural to man to indulge in the illu- 
sions of hope. We are apt to shut our eyes against a painful 
truth, and listen to the song of that siren till she transforms us 
into beasts. * * * * For my part, whatever anguish of spirit it 
may cost, I am willing to know the whole truth ; to know the 
worst, and to provide for it. I have but one lamp by which my 
feet are guided, and that is the lamp of experience. I know of 
no way of judging of the future but by the past. * * * Let us not, 
I beseech you, sir, deceive ourselves longer. Sir, we have done 
every thing that could be done to avert the storm which is com- 
ing on. We have petitioned ; we have remonstrated ; we have 
supplicated ; we have prostrated ourselves before the throne, and 
have implored its interposition to arrest the tyrannical hands of 
the ministry and Parliament. Our petitions have been slighted ; 
our remonstrances have produced additional violence and insult ; 
our supplications have been disregarded, and we have been spurn- 
ed with contempt from the foot of the throne. In vain, after 
these things, may we indulge the fond hope of peace and recon- 
ciliation. There is no longer any room for hope. If we wish to be 
free — if we mean to preserve inviolate those inestimable privileges 
for which we have been so long contending — if we mean not base- 
ly to abandon the noble struggle in which we have been so long 
engaged, and which we have pledged ourselves never to abandon 
until the glorious object of our contest shall be obtained, we must 
fight ! I repeat it, sir, we must fight ! An appeal to arms, and 
to the God of Hosts, is all that is left us. * * * If we were base 
enough to desire it, it is now too late to retire from the contest. 
There is no retreat but in submission and slavery. Our chains 
are forged. Their clanking may be heard on the plains of Bos- 
ton. The war is inevitable, and let it come ! I repeat it, sir, 
let it come ! It is vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. Gentle- 



PATRICK HENRY. 415 

men may cry peace ! peace ! but there is no peace. The war is 
actually begun. The next gale that sweeps from the north will 
bring to our ears the clash of resounding arms. Our brethren 
are already in the field. Why stand we here idle ? What is it 
that gentlemen wish ? What would they have 2 Is life so dear, 
or peace so sweet, as to be purchased at the price of chains and 
slavery ? Forbid it, Almighty God ! I know not what course oth- 
ers may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me death !" 

This soul-firing speech determined the character of the pro- 
ceedings of the Convention. The resolutions were adopted, and a 
committee appointed to carry them into effect. Among other il- 
lustrious names on this committee were those of Washington and 
Jefferson. 

The great national drama of the Revolution was now shortly 
to be enacted. The first collision occurred at Lexington on April 
the 18th, 1775, and was caused, it will be remembered, by an at- 
tempt, on tne part of the British, to seize some military stores at 
Concord. Similar attempts were now made in Virginia, almost 
simultaneously with those in the East. The patriotism of Hemy 
was about to be tested in the camp. A quantity of powder and 
arms were seized at Williamsburg, during the night, by the gov- 
ernor. Henry assembled an independent company, marched im- 
mediately to the scene of action, and demanded either restitution 
of, or payment for the powder seized. The king's receiver gen- 
eral thought it advisable to hand over a bill of exchange for £330. 
By this and by similar acts of prompt bravery, Patrick Henry 
rose rapidly in the estimation of the people as a military chieftain. 
He was elected colonel of the first regiment of troops, and com- 
mander-in-chief of all the forces raised or to be raised for the de- 
fense of the colony. He did not long retain his commission. In 
consequence of some jealous opposition, he resigned. 

Things had now assumed such a threatening aspect that Lord 
Dunmore, the governor, thought it necessary for his own safety 
to desert the colony, which was, in consequence, left without a 
chief magistrate. In this emergency, a convention of delegates 
from the various counties of the state proceeded to draw up a 
plan of government. On the 15th May, 1776, Mr. Cary reported 
from a committee of the whole house, with a suitable preamble, 
two important resolutions, one of which instructed the delegates 
to the General Congress to propose to that body a declaration that 



416 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the united colonies were free and independent states, while the other 
provided for the government of the new commonwealth of Vir- 
ginia. In pursuance of the second resolution, Patrick Henry was 
elected the first republican governor of his native state. The 
same honor was reconferred on him in 1777, and also in 1778. 
He declined a re-election in 1779, from a belief that the Constitu- 
tion did not allow him to serve four years in succession. During 
the second year of Henry's administration a disgraceful intrigue 
against Washington occurred, and an attempt was made to im- 
plicate him in it ; but he behaved with such prompt and manly 
straightforwardness that the general was satisfied, as posterity is, 
that he had nothing to do with it. 

During these years — and they were the gloomiest America had 
ever seen — the services of the patriot orator were devoted entirely 
to the good of his country. They were so keenly appreciated, that 
in 1784, six years after the close of his former term of service, Hen- 
ry, being again eligible for office, was once more elected governor, 
and, at the termination of the official year, was re-elected. It 
was the desire of the Legislature that he should complete another 
three years' term, but, at the end of the second year, he declined. 
The truth of the matter was that his private affairs were in a 
somewhat embarrassed condition. The salary of governor was 
insufficient for the expenses of the office, and he had been com- 
pelled to contract debts which it was necessary he should pay. 
He concluded, therefore, to decline office, and once more to resume 
the practice of the law. In the mean time, he had been elected 
to the House of Assembly, whither we shall follow him. 

More than once during his public career he had felt it his duty 
to propose or advocate measures in opposition to the popular sen- 
timent of the times. Henry was a man who thought for himself 
on all great topics, and never, under any circumstances, surrender- 
ed his judgment to the keeping of others. The force of his judg- 
ment and the decision of his character were generally exercised 
to the advantage of the community, although he was sometimes 
led away by patriotic fears, which were, as time has proved, ut- 
terly unfounded. Immediately after the termination of the Revo- 
lutionary struggle he introduced a measure for the return of the 
British refugees. There was, of course, at this time a strong and 
natural prejudice against the misguided men who, if they had not 
actually opposed the American struggle, at all events had done 



PATRICK HENRY. 417 

nothing to forward it. Mr. Henry exerted all his influence and 
genius to remove this prejudice, and, on the grounds of human- 
ity, justice, and policy, advocated the liberal plan of forgetting 
the past. In the same generous spirit he supported and carried, 
against a vigorous opposition, a proposal for removing the restraints 
on British commerce. "Why should Ave fetter commerce?" he 
asked: "a man in chains droops and bows to the earth; his 
spirits are broken ; but let him twist the fetters from his legs, 
and he will stand upright. Fetter not commerce, sir ; let her be 
free as air. She will range the whole creation, and return on 
the wings of the four winds of heaven to bless the land with 
plenty." 

In 1786 Henry was sent by the Legislature as a delegate to 
the Convention for revising the Articles of Confederation among 
the States. In September, 1787, the Constitution was adopted 
with a proviso that the ratification of it by nine states should be 
sufficient for its final establishment. Conventions were at once 
held in all the states for the due consideration of the important 
document. The Virginia Convention met in Eichmond on the 
2d of June, 1788, and such men as Marshall, Madison, Monroe, 
and Henry were among those who formed it. Patrick Henry 
appeared in that assembly as the determined opponent of the 
Constitution. We know very well at this day that he was wrong, 
and that the fears he entertained for the stability of a government 
based on the new system have turned out altogether wrong. For- 
tunately, he found powerful opponents, especially in Mr. Madison, 
who on this occasion distinguished himself by calm good sense, 
instinctive sagacity, and vast information. Notwithstanding the 
"cloud-compelling" opposition of Mr. Henry, the Constitution 
was adopted, and he himself lived to regard it with much less 
fear than at first. There was nothing factious about Mr. Henry's 
opposition. The moment the Constitution was adopted as the 
law of the land, his opposition ceased. 

Mr. Henry declined a re-election to the Virginia Legislature, 
and, although frequently solicited, never again took an active part 
in politics. In the fall of 1791 he was engaged in the British 
Debts case before the Circuit Court of the United States. For 
three days he proceeded with his argument, and such was the 
excitement that prevailed that it was found impossible to go on 
with the business of the State, the members of the Legislature 

S 2 



418 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



being in the court listening to Henry, instead of attending to their 
own business in the House. When he finally sat down, says Mr. 
Wirt, the concourse rose with a general murmur of admiration ; 
the scene resembled the breaking up and dispersion of a great 
theatrical assembly which had been enjoying, for the first time, 
the exhibition of some new and splendid drama. 

In 1794, Mr. Henry, having acquired a competency, retired 
from professional life, loaded with honors and universal affection. 
In the bosom of his family he now hoped to pass the tranquil 
evening of his life ; but in 1799, although somewhat feeble in 
health, he felt called upon to offer himself as a candidate for the 
Legislature on account of some important measures which had 
been introduced, called the Alien and Sedition Laws. He was 
elected by a large majority, but did not live to take his seat in 
the Assembly. On the 6th of June, 1799, he died of a disease 
under which he had been suffering for two years, leaving behind 
him a wife and nine children. He had been twice married, and 
at one time numbered fifteen children. No man was better fitted 
to enjoy the happiness of such a domestic circle. He was a loving 
husband, a kind father, and a brave, upright patriot and Christian, 
thoroughly imbued with religious feeling, and devout in all his 
aspirations. As an evidence of his religious sincerity, we may 
mention that, in 1790, he published at his own expense, and gra- 
tuitously circulated, an edition of Soame Jenyns's "View of the 
Internal Evidences of Christianity." Among his favorite works 
were Doddridge's " Rise and Progress of Religion in the Soul," 
and Butler's "Analogy of Religion, Natural and Revealed." 

Patrick Henry has been called the greatest orator of the New 
World, and it is probable that he is fully entitled to that distinc- 
tion. The immense influence of his oratory is amply substan- 
tiated, although the orations themselves have not been hand- 
ed down to us in a way to explain this influence. There is no 
doubt that he owed much of his success to natural gifts of voice, 
appearance, and manner ; indeed, all orators do. For the rest, 
he was a man of sincere convictions, with a rapid judgment, much 
earnestness, and a deep-seated sensibility. These attributes are 
the happiest that can belong to an orator, and, combined with 
sound common sense, never fail to achieve distinction. It must 
forever be regretted that the early years of this great man's life 
were wasted in the indolent pursuit of pleasure. Had he culti- 



PATEICK HENRY. 419 

vated the faculties which the Almighty intrusted to his keeping, 
he would have lived in the imperishable literature of his country 
as well as in its political history. It is difficult to account for this 
early indolence, except on one theory. He was a man of wonderful 
organization, mental and physical. Nature had made him robust, 
active, and eager for the enjoyments of life. He was strong in 
body as in mind. It was in accordance with nature's plan, there- 
fore, that the physical luxuriance of the man should unfold itself 
before the mental. Had he been weak or sickly, the case would 
have been different. The story of his early life affords no example 
worthy of imitation, but it shows at least that an observant mind 
is never actually idle. The happy faculty he possessed of seizing 
on the things of the moment, and bending them to his purpose as 
illustrations, was doubtless the result of quiet observation, pursued 
amid the excitement of the chase or the still expectation of the 
angle. A man who spends his life in books rarely possesses this 
talent. However this may be, there is no doubt that, so long as 
America shall have a history, the name of Patrick Henry will be 
inscribed on its tablets as the greatest natural orator of a century. 



ELI WHITNEY. 

In a gay little frame house of Westborough, "Worcester County, 
Massachusetts, Eli Whitney, the inventor of the cotton-gin, was 
born on the 8th of December, 1765. His father was a respecta- 
ble farmer. At a very early age Eli gave indications of unusual 
mechanical and constructive genius, and was able to handle the 
tools in the farm workshop with dexterity. When he was twelve 
years of age he distinguished himself by making a violin, which, 
it is said, produced good music, and was, of course, the wonder 
of the neighborhood. It obtained so wide a fame that he was aft- 
erward employed to repair violins, and had many nice jobs, which 
were always executed to the entire satisfaction of his customers. 
Whitney, like most ingenious boys, was fascinated by the perfect 
finish and admirable adaptability of the various parts of a watch. 
His fingers itched to take it to pieces and learn the secret of its 
usefulness ; but his father, to whom it belonged, had very differ- 
ent wishes on the subject, and was apt to reward curiosity with 
punishment. For a long time Eli's inquisitive mind had to post- 
pone its yearnings, but at length an opportunity presented itself. 
" One morning, observing that his father was going to meeting, 
and would leave at home the wonderful little machine, he imme- 
diately feigned illness as an apology for not going to church. As 
soon as the family were out of sight, he flew to the room where 
the watch hung, and, taking it down, he was so delighted with its 
motions that he took it all in pieces before he thought of the con- 
sequences of his rash deed ; for his father was a stern parent, and 
punishment would have been the reward of his idle curiosity had 
the mischief been detected. He, however, put the work all so 
neatly together, that his father never discovered his audacity un- 
til he himself told him, many years afterward." Similar instan- 
ces of ingenuity were of constant occurrence, and gave abundant 
indications of the natural bent of his mind. 

When Whitney was fifteen or sixteen years of age, he determ- 
ined to turn his tool-handiness to some account. He asked per- 
mission of his father to set up as a maker of nails, for which there 



ELI WHITNEY. 421 

was a great demand. His father consented, procured him a few- 
simple tools, and left him to pursue his labors as best he could. 
For two winters he labored diligently at this arduous trade. His 
industry was unflagging. Nothing was permitted to interfere 
with the day's labor, and, when that was completed, he amused 
himself with making tools for his own use, and in doing little 
fancy jobs for the neighbors. In the summer months he did or- 
dinary field-work on his father's farm. When the nail business 
began to fail, he directed his attention to the making of long pins 
for the fastening of ladies' bonnets, and also to the manufacture 
of walking-canes. Both these curious articles were turned out 
with such peculiar neatness that he had a complete command of 
the market. 

Whitney's industry was from the first directed to the attain- 
ment of one coveted object. It was his ambition to win for him- 
self a superior education, and to enjoy the advantages of a colle- 
giate course of study. In 1789 he had so far made himself the 
master of circumstances as to be able to enter the freshman class 
at Yale College ; three years later he had obtained his first de- 
gree, and immediately afterward he went into the world as a pri- 
vate teacher. In the family of General Greene, of Mulberry 
Grove, near Savannah, he was received with great kindness and 
consideration, and while in the enjoyment of their hospitality com- 
menced the study of the law. Mrs. Greene, like most fashionable 
ladies of the time, amused her leisure with the elegant pastime of 
tambour-work. One day she complained that the frame or tam- 
bour was clumsily constructed, and tore the delicate threads of 
her work. Whitney's inventive faculties and his gallantry were 
immediately excited. In a few days he produced a new frame, 
on a totally different plan. It was found to work admirably, and 
Mrs. Greene never forgot the ingenuity of her young friend. Not 
long after, a conversation sprang up between some guests of the 
house on the usual topic of Southern talk, the cotton crop. A good 
many regrets were expressed that there was no way of cleaning the 
seed from the green seed-cotton, which prevented much profitable 
cultivation of the plant on lands unsuitable for rice. According to 
the then existing system, only one pound of the clean staple could 
be separated from the seed in a day. Mrs. Greene suggested that 
the subject should be proposed to Whitney, on the score that he 
could make any thing, and took an early opportunity to intro- 



422 SELF-MADE MEN. 

duce the parties. At this time Whitney had never seen cotton- 
seed in his life, but, without a moment's delay, he turned his 
thoughts to the accomplishment of the object proposed. In Sa- 
vannah he found it impossible to procure tools, and was under 
the necessity of making them for himself, and even then had to 
draw his own wire. In the effort to which he now devoted him- 
self, he was warmly encouraged by an old college friend, Mr. Mil- 
ler, and by Mrs. Greene. The gentleman possessed capital, and 
was so well satisfied with Whitney's plans, that he proposed to 
become a joint adventurer with him, and to bear the whole ex- 
pense of maturing the invention until it should be patented... If 
the machine should succeed in its intended operations, the parties 
agreed " that the profits and advantages arising therefrom, as 
well as all privileges and emoluments to be derived from patent- 
ing, making, vending, and working the same, should be mutually 
and equally shared between them." This instrument bears date 
the 27th of May, 1793. Immediately afterward the firm of Mil- 
ler and Whitney commenced operations. 

The advantages which were to be derived by the cotton plant- 
ers from Whitney's machine were too important to allow of its 
being constructed without exciting curiosity. The excitement 
became so intense that multitudes arrived from all quarters of 
the state to inspect the machine. Seeing how admirably it was 
calculated to assist them, their cupidity was excited, and some 
unprincipled wretches broke into the building and carried off the 
yet incomplete model. In order to prevent the recurrence of 
such a disgraceful act, Whitney repaired to Connecticut, where 
he knew he would be unmolested ; but his idea had been already 
appropriated by the greedy ruffians who had broken into his house. 
Within three days of his departure, Mr. Miller wrote to him to say 
that there were two other claimants to the honor of the inven- 
tion ; and almost immediately afterward a new cotton-gin made 
its appearance, constructed in every important respect precisely 
like Whitney's. It was evident that his troubles were about to 
commence, and that, like all original inventors, he would have to 
be content with the empty honors of his genius. The demand for 
the machines, however, when he had commenced their manufac- 
ture, far exceeded Whitney's ability to make them. He was 
cramped for want of money. Thus the pirates had every induce- 
ment to bring in their spurious copies. The planter who had not 







ELI WHITNEY. 423 

a machine, felt it necessary to procure one, either from Whitney 
or some other source, simply as a measure of protection against 
his more fortunate neighbor. In March, 1795, in addition to 
these troubles, Whitney's manufactory in Connecticut, with all his 
stock of machines, his papers, and his implements and tools, was 
destroyed by fire. Such an untimely calamity reduced the con- 
cern to a state of bankruptcy. As though this were not enough 
to appease the cruel fates, intelligence was received from England 
condemning the cotton cleaned by machines, on the ground that 
the staple was greatly injured. There is no doubt that this de- 
cision was provoked in consequence of the imperfect operations 
of the rival machines. Indeed, many respectable factors made a 
special reservation in favor of Whitney's, but it was of little avail 
against the torrent of spurious ones which now deluged the South. 
" The extreme embarrassments," wrote Whitney at this time, 
"which have been for a long time accumulating upon me, are 
now become so great that it will be impossible for me to struggle 
against them many days longer. It has required my utmost ex- 
ertions to exist, without making the least progress in our business. 
I have labored hard against the strong current of disappointment 
which has been threatening to carry us down the cataract, but I 
have labored with a shattered oar, and struggled in vain, unless 
some speedy relief is obtained. * * * * Life is but short at best, 
and six or seven years out of the midst of it is, to him who makes 
it, an immense sacrifice. My most unremitted attention has been 
devoted to our business. I have sacrificed to it other objects, 
from which, before this time, I might certainly have gained twen- 
ty or thirty thousand dollars. My whole prospects have been 
embarked in it, with the expectation that I should, before this 
time, have realized something from it." 

Whitney's success now depended not only on the introduction 
of his own machines, but the extinction of all others, for the latter 
not only interfered with the sale of his own, but, what was of far 
greater importance, brought the machine-prepared staple into dis- 
credit with the English manufacturers. It was determined, there- 
fore, to prosecute the violators of the patent rights. The first trial 
came off on the 11th of May, 1797. The tide of popular opinion 
appeared to be running in Miller & Whitney's favor; the judge 
was well-disposed toward them, and charged the jury pointedly 
in their favor. The jury retired to consider their verdict. In 



424 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



an hour they returned, and, to the consternation of every one, 
brought in a verdict against the plaintiffs. As if to add addi- 
tional harshness to this unrighteous decision, the verdict was 
made general, so that no appeal could lie. "Thus, after four 
years of assiduous labor, fatigue, and difficulty," wrote Mr. Miller, 
" are we again set afloat by a new and most unexpected obstacle. 
Our hopes of success are now removed to a period still more dis- 
tant than before, while our expenses are realized beyond all con- 
troversy." Efforts were made to obtain a new trial, and also to 
obtain a verdict on a fresh issue, but without success. It became 
evident that justice could not be obtained in Georgia, and in 1799 
Mr. Miller wrote, " The prospect of making any thing by ginning 
in this state is at an end. Surreptitious gins are erected in ev- 
ery part of the country, and the jurymen at Augusta have come 
to an understanding among themselves that they will never give 
a cause in our favor, let the merits of the case be as they may." 
The only chance of protection was in an appeal to the Legislatures 
of the several states. It was determined to make a first effort 
with the State of South Carolina. Accordingly, in the winter 
session of 1801, Mr. Whitney proceeded to Columbia, and, after 
attending on the Legislature for a couple of weeks, was fortunate 
enough to dispose of the patent right for that state. The sum of 
fifty thousand dollars was fixed upon as the price, twenty thousand 
to be paid down, and the balance by yearly instalments of ten 
thousand dollars. Better times appeared to be ripening for the 
disappointed inventor. In December of the following year Mr. 
Whitney negotiated a sale of his patent right with the State of 
North Carolina. The Legislature laid a tax of two shillings and 
sixpence upon every saw employed in ginning cotton, to be con- 
tinued for five years, and, after deducting the expenses of collec- 
tion, the avails were faithfully handed over to the patentee. A 
similar negotiation was entered into with the State of Tennessee. 
In the midst of this apparent prosperity, and when every thing 
seemed to be tending to an equitable adjustment of difficulties, 
the State of South Carolina suddenly repudiated its obligations, 
refused to pay any more of the purchase-money, and commenced 
actions for the recovery of what had been paid. This unworthy 
meanness was basely imitated by Tennessee ; but North Carolina, 
with manly liberality and righteousness, adhered to its contract, 
and even reaffirmed it, as if to make assurance doubly sure. In 



ELI WHITNEY. 425 

the following year South Carolina felt ashamed of its meanness, 
rescinded the act of repudiation, and paid some timely compli- 
ments to Mr. Whitney. 

On the 7th of December, 1803, Mr. Miller, the faithful and de- 
voted associate of Whitney, departed this life, leaving him alone, 
amid innumerable difficulties to contend with and embarrassments 
to surmount. The immediate pressure of the latter was in some 
measure mitigated by the steady receipts which now flowed in 
from North and South Carolina. But there was constant trouble 
in Georgia, and no end of vexatious lawsuits. It was so difficult 
to obtain a verdict on the merits of the patent that the latter had 
nearly expired before Judge Johnson gave his celebrated decision 
affirming the legal rights of the patentee. Long before this, Whit- 
ney had despaired of gaining any thing like competency from his 
invention, and began to entertain serious thoughts of turning his 
talents to some sure and lucrative business in which industry, 
frugality, and merit would meet with their just reward. On the 
14th of January, 1798, he concluded a contract with the Secretary 
of the Treasury to supply the United States government with a 
large stock of arms, and, without more ado, proceeded to the erec- 
tion of a suitable manufactory for the prosecution of the business 
of arms-making. The site selected was near the city of New Ha- 
ven, and is now called Whitney ville. The machinery and tools 
for the manufacture were partly invented and wholly made by 
Whitney, and, under his eye, a number of inexperienced workmen 
were converted into skillful artisans. "Under the system of Mr. 
AVhitney," says a writer in Silliinan's Journal, to whom we, in com- 
mon with all subsequent biographers, are largely indebted, "the 
several parts of the musket were carried along through the various 
processes of manufacture in lots of some hundreds or thousands of 
each. In their various stages of progress they were made to un- 
dergo successive operations by machinery, which not only vastly 
abridged the labor, but at the same time so fixed and determined 
their form and dimensions as to make comparatively little skill 
necessary in the manual operations. Such was the construction 
and arrangement of this machinery, that it could be worked by 
persons of little or no experience, and yet it performed the work 
with so much precision, that when, in the later stages of the 
process, the several parts of the musket came to be put together, 
they were as readily adapted to each other as if each had been 
made for its respective fellow. A lot of these parts passed through 






426 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the hands of several different workmen successively (and in some 
cases several times returned, at intervals more or less remote, to 
the hands of the same workman), each performing upon them 
every time some single and simple operation by machinery or by 
hand until they were completed. Thus Mr. Whitney reduced a 
complex business, embracing many ramifications, almost to a mere 
succession of simple processes, and was thereby enabled to make 
a division of the labor among his workmen, on a principle that 
was not only more extensive, but also more philosophical than 
that pursued in the English method." 

The muskets made by this process were not only cheaper, but 
better than any others in the market. So thoroughly satisfied 
was the government on this point, that they cheerfully entered 
into a second contract on the completion of the first. Mr. Whit- 
ney was not without opposition. Many of the old established 
gun-makers, who pursued the old routine, and supposed it impos- 
sible for any thing better to be contrived, competed with him, but 
brains told against capital in this instance, and Whitney enjoyed 
a well-earned reputation and put money in his purse. 

In the year 1812 Mr. Whitney made application to Congress 
for a renewal of his patent for the cotton-gin. In a temperate and 
admirably-written memorial, he put forward all his claims to this 
slight consideration. It was of no avail. The very men who 
had been most benefited by the invention were those who opposed 
the inventor most virulently. They were successful ; the exten- 
sion was refused, and those who had so long robbed him illegally 
now did it with the protection of the law. In a letter to Mr. 
Fulton on this subject, Whitney says, " The difficulties with which 
I have had to contend have originated principally in the want of 
a disposition in mankind to do justice. My invention was new, 
and distinct from every other ; it stood alone ; it was not inter- 
woven with any thing before known ; and it can seldom happen 
that an invention or improvement is so strongly marked, and can 
be so clearly and specifically identified; and I have always be- 
lieved that I should have had no difficulty in causing my rights 
to be respected, if it had been less valuable, and been used only 
by a small portion of the community. But the use of this ma- 
chine being immensely profitable to almost every planter in the 
cotton districts, all were interested in trespassing upon the pat- 
ent-right, and each kept the other in countenance. Demagogues 
made themselves popular by misrepresentation and unfounded 



ELI WHITNEY. 427 

clamors, both against the right, and against the law made for its 
protection. Hence there arose associations and combinations to 
oppose both. At one time, but few men in Georgia dared to 
come into court and testify to the most simple facts within their 
knowledge relative to the use of the machine. In one instance I 
had great difficulty in proving that the machine had been used in 
Georgia, although, at the same moment, there were three separate sets 
of this machinery in motion within fifty yards of the building in which 
the court sat, and all so near that the rattling of the wheels was dis- 
tinctly heard on the steps of the court-house." 

Fortunately, his worldly prosperity did not now depend upon 
the uncertain privileges of letters patent and state rights. The 
new enterprise in which he was embarked proved, as we have 
hinted, eminently lucrative, and pointed out a clear road to afflu- 
ence. His circumstances now being comparatively easy, he be- 
gan to yearn for the social comforts of home — for the tranquil 
joys which nestle around the family hearth — for the solace, con- 
solation, and gentle ministrations of a wife. In January of 1817 
he gratified this ardent and amiable desire, and was wedded to 
Miss Henrietta F. Edwards, the youngest daughter of the Hon. 
Pierrepont Edwards, of the District Court of the State of Con- 
necticut. His happiness was subsequently rendered complete by 
the addition of a son and three daughters to his domestic circle. 
Every thing seemed to promise a brilliant and gorgeous decline 
to a life too much spent in toil and trouble. But it was not to 
be. At the moment when the cup of happiness appeared to be 
brimming at his lips, it was dashed to the ground by the treach- 
erous approaches of the fell destroyer. Disease in an aggravated 
and tedious form attacked him. He struggled against it with his 
accustomed firmness, but King Death's patent rights can not be 
set aside. After a long and painful illness, he died on the 8th of 
January, 1825. 

His death occasioned a sensation of profound sadness to a large 
community, who knew and respected him not only for the mate- 
rial good he had done his country, but for the amiable qualities 
of his heart and mind. The citizens of New Haven paid every 
respect to the memory of the deceased, and caused a eulogy to be 
pronounced over his remains by President Day, of Yale College. 
A neat tomb has been erected over his grave, fashioned after the 
model of that of Scipio at Rome. It marks a spot that should be 
honored by every American who is jealous of his country's glory. 



«*p 




BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 

The life of this extraordinary man presents a solid instance of 
high eminence and national esteem achieved by the conscientious 
and timely nurture and exercise of temperate and healthy facul- 
ties. In the picture of his life there is nothing that attracts us 
by its glare and tinseled brilliancy. The coloring, if any thing, 
is cold and sombre ; but there is clearness in the outline, and 
never-failing boldness and vigor in the filling up. We are aston- 
ished at the absence of every thing like mere effort for show. He 
never seems to say to himself, " This will look well ;" but rather, 
"This is correct, and therefore beautiful." Biographers have ex- 
perienced difficulty in doing full justice to the life of Franklin for 
the reason that he presents so many points of excellence, all glow- 
ing with quiet splendor. By one he is considered remarkable 
principally for his philosophical experiments and discoveries ; by 
another, for his ingenuity and devotion as a diplomat ; by a third, 
for his clear-headed organization of philanthropic societies ; by a 
fourth, for his patriotism, and so on. Each separate advocate 
finds abundant materials for eulogizing the hero, but each and all 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 429 

do the hero an injustice, for it was not the possession of a single 
faculty that made Franklin remarkable, but the nice adjustment 
of many. Even Franklin himself fails to do justice to his life. 
His Autobiography is simply the story of a prudent man, who ex- 
alts the virtues generally, and adds economy and money-making 
to the list because he practices them. If our knowledge of Frank- 
lin were confined simply to this record, it would be very imperfect 
and unsatisfactory. 

It must not be supposed that Franklin's character is one of 
such extreme complexity that it can not be understood by ordi- 
nary intelligences. On the contrary, its utter simplicity is what 
is apt to confuse ; for a virtuous character presents more admira- 
ble phases than any other ; and, in dwelling on any individual 
phase, we are likely to do injustice to the others. Franklin had 
what is called by phrenologists a well-balanced organization. Ev- 
ery faculty was largely formed and assiduously cultivated. He 
knew exactly his own strength, and, consequently, never failed of 
success in what he undertook. He armed himself with right — 
might he possessed — and never laid it down until he had gained 
the victory. His life is remarkable for two things, great ambition 
and great virtue. He determined to be famous and to be good. 
He succeeded in both. 

Benjamin Franklin was the fifteenth child of a family of seven- 
teen, and was born in Boston on the 17th January, 1706. His 
father, an English Nonconformist, emigrated to New England 
about the year 1682, for the sake of enjoying the free exercise of 
his religion. He was a tallow-chandler and soap-boiler by pro- 
fession, and a man of considerable force of character. At eight 
years of age young Benjamin was put to the grammar-school, but 
continued there for a very brief period. It was his father's wish 
to devote him to the service of the Church ; but, burdened with a 
numerous family, he was unable to bear the additional expenses 
of a fitting education for that important sphere, and therefore 
took him from the grammar-school, and gave him a commercial 
education in a private establishment kept by Mr. George Brown- 
well. At ten years of age he was able to help his father in the 
business of cutting wicks, filling moulds, etc., but, disliking the 
occupation, conceived the idea, common to all dissatisfied youth, 
of going to sea. In order to divert his mind from this project, 
his father took him round to various manufactories and work- 



430 SELF-MADE MEN. 

shops, in order that he might see the operations of the workmen, 
and thus fix on some profession that would be agreeable to his 
taste. The elder Franklin determined in favor of the cutler's 
trade, and endeavored to place Benjamin with a member of that 
craft ; but the latter demanded too large a fee, and he was taken 
home again, with a gloomy prospect of the candle and ohandlery 
business. At length it was resolved that Benjamin (who from his 
earliest days had displayed a strong bookish inclination) should 
be apprenticed to his brother James, a printer, who had just es- 
tablished himself in business (1717). According to the absurd 
custom of that day, he was bound for no less a period than nine 
years — that is to say, until he was twenty- one years of age. In 
a little time he made great progress in the business, and became 
a useful hand to his brother. What attached him most to the 
business was the additional facility with which he could now ob- 
tain books for reading. With these he would delight himself on 
every possible opportunity, often sitting up in his chamber the 
greater part of the night, in order that he might punctually return 
the book he had borrowed. In course of time, the activity of his 
mind began to display itself in various ways, such as discussing 
ethical topics with his companions, and building up verses on the 
popular events of the day. His father watched his progress with 
calm interest, and freely criticised what attempts at literary pro- 
ductions fell in his way, and, what was more extraordinary, even 
succeeded in convincing his son that they were not remarkable for 
elegance of expression, method, or perspicuity. To remedy these 
defects, the young man procured an odd volume of the Spectator, 
and endeavored to imitate the Addisonian style of writing. In 
order to increase his stock of words, he turned some of the articles 
into verse, and after a time, when he had pretty well forgotten the 
prose, turned them back again. The time he allotted for writing 
exercises and for reading was at night, or before work began in 
the morning, or on Sunday. 

When about sixteen years of age he became a convert to the 
vegetarian doctrine, and refused to eat the flesh of any animal 
that had been slaughtered for food. He was a little annoyed by 
the members of his brother's family, with whom he boarded, on 
account of this sudden and somewhat remarkable conversion, and 
therefore determined to board himself. He proposed it to his 
brother, and agreed that, if the latter would give him weekly half 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 431 

the money he paid for his board, he would take care of himself. 
Of course, his brother acquiesced in such an economical arrange- 
ment, and Benjamin found that out of his small sum he could 
save at least half for the purchase of books. This was not the 
only economy, for, owing to the lightness of his repasts, they did 
not take him long to dispatch, and he had the greater part of the 
usual dinner-hour left to himself. 

Franklin's brother was the proprietor of a newspaper, which 
he had started in 1720 or 1721, and which was the second news- 
paper in America. It was called the New England Courant, and 
the subject of this memoir assisted, of course, in doing the press- 
work and setting up the type. The contributors to this paper 
were principally among the private friends of Mr. James Franklin, 
and often came to the office to talk over the affairs of the colony, 
and listen to a little mutual admiration. Benjamin's ambition 
became excited, and he made up his mind to have a try at 
newspaper writing ; but, doubting if his brother would publish a 
contribution if he knew it to be from his pen, he disguised his 
hand, and put the manuscript under the door of the printing- 
house. It was found in the morning, and placed in the hands of 
the writing friends who formed the literary tribunal of the estab- 
lishment. They reail it, commented on it in Benjamin's hearing, 
and he had the exquisite pleasure of finding that it met with their 
approbation, and that, in their different guesses at the author, none 
were named but men of some character for learning and ingenuity. 
He followed up this first attempt with many others, until he could 
keep his secret no longer, and so made it known. His brother 
treated him with a little more consideration after this, but mix- 
ed with it somewhat of jealousy. He was afraid his apprentice 
would get too vain, and forget that he had a master. A good 
deal of unhappiness resulted, and Ben, like the monkey in the 
story, received more kicks than halfpence for his exertions. His 
brother was very passionate, and often struck him without reason- 
able provocation. Ben began to yearn for some opportunity of 
shortening the term of his hardships, and soon found it in a very 
unexpected but agreeable manner. An article in the paper gave 
offense to the authorities, and the proprietor, Mr. James Franklin, 
Avas imprisoned for a month. In those days the liberty of the press 
was not so thoroughly understood as in the present, and, if an 
editor said an unpleasant thing, he stood a very good chance of 









432 SELF-MADE MEN. 

paying the penalty of his temerity among the common felons of 
a jail. During his brother's confinement the management of 
the paper was placed in the hands of young Benjamin, and he 
gave the authorities some rubs on the subject of liberty of speech. 
When James was discharged from prison, his release was accom- 
panied with an order that " he should no longer print the news- 
paper called the New England GourantP It was proposed to elude 
this order by printing the paper in the name of Benjamin Frank- 
lin, and, in order to avoid the censure of the Assembly, James con- 
sented that the latter's indentures should be canceled. This was 
accordingly done, and for some months all went well ; but fresh 
differences took place between the two brothers, and a separation 
ensued. Ben sold his books, and with the proceeds started secret- 
ly for New York, where he arrived (October, 1723) without the 
least recommendation or knowledge of any person in the place. 
He was unable to gain employment, and therefore went on to 
Philadelphia, where he arrived hungry, sore-footed, and travel- 
soiled. His first visit was to the baker's, where he purchased 
three penny worth of bread, consisting of three great puffy rolls, 
one of which he placed under each arm, eating the other through 
the principal streets. A draught from the river completed his 
frugal meal. On his way he met many well-dressed persons, 
who all seemed to go in the same direction. Ben joined them, 
and thereby was led into the great meeting-house of the Quakers. 
He sat down among them, and, feeling drowsy, soon fell fast 
asleep, and continued so until the meeting broke up, when some 
one was kind enough to rouse him. 

He was more successful in Philadelphia than he had been in 
New York, and, after a few days, obtaine'd a situation as press- 
man to one Keimer, an individual who united the professions of 
printer and poet, and composed verses in type directly out of his 
head. By industry and frugality, Ben succeeded — as all young 
men must succeed — very well. No one knew of his whereabouts 
except a Boston crony who had assisted in his escape, and had 
kept the secret faithfully; nor did he desire that his brother, 
who had tried with some success to injure his reputation in oth- 
er cities, should know of his retreat. But the difficulty of keep- 
ing a secret is proverbial, especially if you want to do so. An 
incident occurred which completely upset all Benjamin's plans 
for the future. A brother-in-law, Robert Holmes, master of a 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 433 

sloop that traded between Boston and Delaware, hearing of the 
young man, wrote a letter to him, mentioning the grief of his re- 
lations, and exhorting him to communicate with or return to them, 
and promising that every thing should be arranged in a satisfac- 
tory manner. Ben wrote an answer to this letter, thanking him 
for his advice, and stating his reasons for quitting Boston in such 
a full and convincing manner that he soon discovered the lad was 
not so much in the wrong as he had at first supposed. Sir Wil- 
liam Keith, governor of the province, happened to see this letter, 
and was much struck with its force and clearness, and, seeing that 
the writer was a young man of promising parts, encouraged him, 
and said that, as the printers of Philadelphia were very poor ones, 
he would set him up there, and use all his influence to get him 
into business. In the mean time it was to be kept a secret, and 
our hero went on working for Keimer, who, you may rest assured, 
was not a little surprised to find one of his workmen on such ami- 
cable terms with the principal personage in the state. In 1724 
Franklin returned to Boston. His unexpected appearance sur- 
prised the family ; all, however, were very glad to give him wel- 
come, except his brother, who eyed him from head to foot in a 
cold way, and went on with his work again. Ben was partly to 
blame for this, for he made a display of his worldly success by 
showing his money and his watch to the workmen, and thus irri- 
tated his brother, who said that he insulted him before his people 
— stupidly forgetting that the money and the watch were the 
results of industry and economy, and not of kindness in a new 
master. 

Ben's father did not approve of the governor's plan of starting 
him in business on his own account, although he was, of course, 
agreeably flattered and impressed by the friendship of that gen- 
tleman. His principal fear was that the lad was too young and 
inexperienced in the ways of the world. But the governor was 
not discouraged, and on Ben's return to Philadelphia still insist- 
ed on his plan, and went so far as to promise to supply him with 
money to procure all necessary materials from England. He went 
even farther than this, and suggested that the lad should himself 
go to England and select all the things he required, and establish 
correspondences in the bookselling and stationary line. Accord- 
ingly, our hero prepared for the voyage, and waited anxiously for 
the letters of credit which the governor promised to give him. 

T 



434 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



For these letters he called at different times, but a future day 
was always named, and in this manner the days slipped away. 
Having taken leave of his friends, and exchanged promises with 
Miss Read, a young lady of Philadelphia, for whom he entertain- 
ed tender sentiments, our hero quitted the city, and floated down 
to the anchorage at Newcastle. When he went to the governor's 
lodgings, the secretary came to him, and, with many expressions 
of regret, said that the governor was much engaged, but that he 
would send the necessary letters on board, and that they would 
be found all right, and many other things to the same effect. The 
governor's dispatches came on board sure enough, and Ben was 
happy in the belief that his letters were among them. The bags 
were opened in the English Channel, and he found six or seven 
with his name on them as under his care, and as one was direct- 
ed to the king's printer, and another to a stationer, he thought 
all was right. He arrived in England on the 24th of December, 
1724, and immediately waited on the stationer, and delivered 
what he supposed to be his letter from Governor Keith. " I don't 
know such a person," said he ; but, opening the letter, " oh, this 
is from Riddlesden. I have lately found him to be a complete 
rascal, and I will have nothing to do with him, nor receive any 
letters from him." There was not a single letter from the gov- 
ernor, who, it seems, was a weak person, and made promises with- 
out the slightest idea of fulfilling them. Thus was Franklin 
thrown on the world once more, with nothing but habits of in- 
dustry and economy to depend on. He lost no time in looking 
out for work, and immediately succeeded in obtaining a situation 
in a famous printing-office. From step to step he rose in the 
good esteem of his employers, making, also, many friends among 
the learned and curious. He remained in London for about 
eighteen months, and then thought of taking a journeyman tour 
through Europe with a companion printer ; but this scheme was 
frustrated by a Mr. Denham, a gentleman who became acquaint- 
ed with our hero on the voyage out, and who, from observation 
of his general habits and unquestionable ability, entertained a sin- 
cere respect for him. Mr. Denham was now about returning to 
America with a great quantity of goods for a store which he in- 
tended to open, and proposed to take Franklin with him as his 
clerk. He added, that, as soon as he should be acquainted with 
mercantile business, he would send him with a cargo of flour and 



BENJAMIN FEANKLIN. 435 

breadstuff's to the West Indies, and procure him profitable com- 
missions from other houses, and, if he managed well, would event- 
ually establish him handsomely in business on his own account. 
The thing pleased Franklin, and he immediately closed with Mr. 
Denham. On the 23d of July, 1726, he set sail from Gravesend, 
and, after a voyage of nearly three months, arrived once more in 
Philadelphia. Keith was no longer governor, but our hero met 
him walking in the streets like an ordinary citizen. He seemed 
to be a little ashamed, and walked on without saying any thing. 
In the mean time, his old sweetheart, Miss Read, had despaired of 
the fidelity of her lover (who, very wrongly, neglected to answer 
her letters), and, by the advice of her friends, had married. It 
was not a happy union. Her husband turned out a dissolute fel- 
low, and, after giving her much uneasiness, deserted her, and 
finally died in the West Indies. Mr. Denham opened a store in 
Water Street, and every thing went on in the most amicable way. 
Franklin respected and loved him, and he looked on our hero as 
a son. They might have gone on together very happily, but, un- 
fortunately, in February, 1727, they were both taken ill. Frank- 
lin's distemper was a pleurisy. He suffered greatly, and gave up 
the point in his own mind, and says, in his Autobiography, that 
he was, at the time, rather disappointed when he found himself 
getting better, inasmuch as at some future time he would have 
all that unpleasant work to go through again. Mr. Denham was 
not so fortunate ; he suffered a long time, and was at last carried 
to the grave. He remembered his protege in his will, bequeath- 
ing him a small legacy as a mark of his respect. Once more 
Franklin was left to the wide world, not much richer, in a pe- 
cuniary point of view, than on former occasions, but with an in- 
creased wealth of reputation, and a better knowledge of the de- 
vious ways of life. Keimer, his old master, was still in business, 
and, to all appearance, flourishing. He had not forgotten his 
young workman, and tempted him with the offer of large wages 
to take the management of his printing-house. Franklin closed 
with him a little unwillingly, for he did not like the man, on 
account of his loose moral principles. Franklin soon perceived 
that Keimer's object in engaging him at liberal wages was sim- 
ply that he might use him as an instructor for his other hands, 
most of whom were new to the trade. He went about his busi- 
ness very cheerfully, however, and made himself useful in every 






436 SELF-MADE MEN. 

possible way; even contriving to cast new type — a process un- 
known in America at that time— to make the ink used in printing, 
and to engrave small things for ornaments. Notwithstanding his 
diligence, he soon found that his services became every day less 
important as the other hands improved, and Keimer began to 
grumble about the wages. At length a trifle snapped their con- 
nection. A great noise occurred in the court-house, and Frank- 
lin, curious to see what was the matter, popped his head out of 
the window to take a look. Keimer was in the street, and, see- 
ing him, called out in a loud and angry voice, bidding him mind 
his business, and adding some reproachful words, rendered doubly 
nettling from their publicity. He afterward resumed the quarrel 
in the printing-office, until stopped by Franklin, who calmly took 
his hat and walked out of the room. 

One of Keimer' s hands was a young "Welshman named Mere- 
dith, between whom and our hero had sprung up a spirit of fellow- 
ship. He sympathized with Franklin in his recent trouble, and 
advised him to set up for himself. Franklin objected that he had 
no money. "That can soon be remedied," he answered; "if you 
will take me for a partner, my father will supply us with all the 
money we want." It was soon arranged between them that they 
should try their fortunes together in the coming spring. In the 
mean time, a sort of conciliation was brought about by Keimer, 
who once more wanted Franklin's assistance, and the latter re- 
sumed work under his employ. 

It was during this winter that our hero started the famous 
"Junto" club. It consisted of a number of young men, who met 
for mutual improvement. Franklin drew up the rules, and re- 
quired that every member, in his turn, should produce one or 
more queries on any point of morals, politics, or natural philoso- 
phy, to be discussed by the company, and once in three months 
produce and read an essay of his own writing, on any subject he 
pleased. The club continued in existence for upward of forty 
years, and was the best school of philosophy, morality, and poli- 
tics that then existed in the province. Among the members 
was the celebrated mathematician, Thomas Godfrey, inventor of 
what is now called Hadley's Quadrant, and very unjustly so 
called. 

When Franklin & Meredith commenced in the following spring, 
they derived a good deal of benefit from the patronage of the club, 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 437 

every member of which exerted himself to procure patronage for 
the young firm. Dr. Baird, speaking of Franklin at this time, 
said, "The industry of that Franklin is superior to any thing I 
ever saw of the kind ; I see him still at work when I go home 
from the club, and he is at work again before his neighbors are 
out of bed." This observable industry soon brought its reward; 
work flowed in steadily, and the wholesale houses were anxious 
to extend credit to the young firm. Franklin, whose passion for 
writing never deserted him, now began to think of starting a pa- 
per on his own account ; but Keimer, who heard of the intention, 
forestalled it by issuing one himself. Our hero was of course 
vexed at this, and, to counteract the effect as much as possible, 
shrewdly commenced writing for an opposition paper. By this 
means the attention of the public was diverted to that paper, and 
Keimer' s was burlesqued and ridiculed. After carrying it on for 
three quarters of a year, the latter was glad to dispose of it to 
Franklin (1729). It must not be supposed that our hero's career 
was altogether smooth. He had many difficulties to contend with, 
and especially with respect to his partner, Meredith, who, in addi- 
tion to being a very indifferent workman, was also addicted to the 
vice of drunkenness. Besides this, Mr. Meredith's father, who 
was to have paid for the materials used in the business, was un- 
able to advance more than one hundred pounds, leaving a hundred 
more still due to the merchants, who grew impatient, and com- 
menced actions at law. Honesty and industry always have pro- 
tectors, and Franklin found two friends who came to his rescue. 
Shortly afterward Meredith retired from the business, and Frank- 
lin was his own master. The frugality and perseverance with 
which he pursued it attracted the attention of every one. " In 
order to secure my credit and character as a tradesman," he says, 
"I took care to be not only in reality industrious and frugal, but 
to avoid the appearances of the contrary. I dressed plain, and 
was seen at no places of idle diversion. I never went out a fish- 
ing or shooting; a book, indeed, sometimes debauched me from 
my work, but that was seldom, was private, and gave no scan- 
dal ; and, to show that I was not above my business, I sometimes 
brought home the paper I purchased at the stores through the 
streets on a wheelbarrow. Thus, being esteemed an industrious, 
thriving young man, and paying duly for what I bought, the 
merchants who imported stationery solicited my custom; oth- 






438 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ers proposed supplying me with books, and I went on prosper- 
ously." 

In September, 1730, Franklin (after an unsuccessful and some- 
what mercenary flirtation with another young lady) married his 
former love, who was now a widow, and who proved a good and 
faithful helpmate. About this time, also, he put on foot his first 
project of a public library. Proposals were drawn up, and, by 
the help of his friends and the members of the "Junto," fifty 
subscribers were obtained. Afterward a charter was granted, 
and the company increased to one hundred subscribers. This 
was the parent of all the North American subscription libraries, 
now so numerous and highly esteemed. In 1732 Franklin com- 
menced the publication of his famous Almanac, under the name 
of Richard Saunders. It was continued for twenty-five years, 
and commonly called Poor Richard's Almanac. The feature of 
this publication was the immense amount of practical wisdom it 
contained, conveyed mostly in the shape of proverbs. These 
proverbs, which contained the wisdom of many ages and nations, 
were afterward put into a connected form, and prefixed to the 
Almanac of 1757 as the harangue of a wise old man to the people 
attending an auction. The piece met with universal approbation, 
was copied into all the papers, and translated into many lan- 
guages. The Almanac was a source of considerable wealth to the 
compiler. In 1733 Franklin began to study languages, and soon 
mastered the French, Italian, and Spanish. He was surprised to 
find, on looking over a Latin Testament, that he understood more 
of that language than he had imagined, and was therefore encour- 
aged to undertake the study of it. In 1736 he received his first 
public promotion by being chosen clerk of the General Assembly, 
and was reappointed the following year, notwithstanding the pow- 
erful opposition of a member whose fortune, education, and talents 
gave him. great influence in the House. Franklin, with his usual 
shrewdness, saw the propriety of conciliating this opponent, not 
by any servile advances, but by the establishment of some mutual 
feeling between them. Having heard that he possessed a certain 
scarce and curious book, our hero wrote a note to him, express- 
ing a strong desire to peruse it, and requesting that he might be 
favored with the loan of it for a few days. The book was sent 
immediately, and Franklin returned it after a week with a polite 
note of thanks. The next time they met in the House they had 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 439 

something to talk about, and immediately afterward became great 
friends. In 1737 Franklin was appointed deputy postmaster- 
general at Philadelphia. He now began to turn his thoughts 
seriously to public affairs, and rapidly introduced a number of 
important municipal reforms, among which was a plan for better 
protecting and watching the property of the city, and the organ- 
ization of a citizen fire company, the first ever established in 
America. During all this time his business was constantly aug- 
menting, and his circumstances daily growing easier. In 1743 
he drew up a plan for establishing an academy for the complete 
education of youth. A year later he succeeded in establishing 
the Philosophical Society, one of the best and oldest institutions 
in the country, and at the same time awakened the community to 
a proper knowledge of the defenseless state of the province, and 
induced the establishment of several militia companies and the 
erection of a battery. He was appointed to all sorts of city offices, 
and discharged the duties pertaining thereto with such ability that 
he had more offers for similar posts than he could well afford to 
attend to. So much respected and esteemed was he by his fellow- 
citizens, that it was said there was no such thing as carrying a 
public project through without his being concerned m it. In 1751, 
Dr. Thomas Bond, a particular friend of Franklin's, conceived the 
idea of establishing a hospital in Philadelphia for the reception 
and cure of poor sick people of every condition. Franklin threw 
himself into the scheme with ardor, and it was principally through 
his exertions that the first public hospital in Philadelphia was 
established. 

Disputes and difficulties had long existed between the English 
proprietaries of the province and the inhabitants concerning cer- 
tain exemptions which the former claimed, but which the latter 
would not concede. Every governor who came over from the 
Old Country, filled with notions of privilege and power, went back 
again with a flea in his ear, and in this way a constant feud was 
maintained between one portion of the government and the people. 
It was determined to bring this state of things to an end by peti- 
tioning the king in person, and it became necessary to appoint a 
fitting agent to convey the document to England, and otherwise 
look after the interests of the American people. The choice fell 
on Franklin, and once more he crossed the Atlantic, not as a jour- 
neyman printer in search of employ, but as the representative of 



440 SELF-MADE MEN. 

a people who demanded their rights. He arrived in London, after 
a narrow escape from shipwreck, on the 27th of July, 1757. 

Before we proceed farther with the narrative of Franklin's pub- 
lic career, it is necessary to refer at some length to another phase 
of his character. From the exactness of his observation and the 
force of his reasoning powers he was naturally a philosopher. It 
cost him very little trouble to find out the cause of things. The 
restlessness of his mind led him into irresistible trains of investi- 
gation, which inevitably resulted in truth. In 1746, Dr. Spence, 
a Scottish lecturer, arrived at Boston, and, having some electrical 
apparatus, performed many curious experiments. Although not 
well done, they were sufficient to inflame the curiosity of our hero, 
who immediately began to inquire into the nature and properties 
of electricity, and especially the source whence it came. After a 
number of experiments, conducted with great exactness and sim- 
plicity, Franklin constructed the general outlines of his theory. 
All bodies in nature, he considered, had a certain quantity of elec- 
tricity, which might be diminished by part being given out to an- 
other body, or increased by receiving electricity from a cylinder. 
In the one case he regarded the body as negatively, in the other 
as positively electrified. In the one case it had less, in the other 
more than its natural quantity ; in either case, therefore, suppos- 
ing it to be composed of electricity and common matter, the usual 
equilibrium or balance between its two constituent ingredients 
was for the time upset or destroyed. Upon this theory Franklin 
constructed a system, which has been aptly described as one of 
the most beautiful generalizations in the whole compass of sci- 
ence. A brilliant discovery rewarded the philosopher for his 
hours of patient thought and investigation. It had long been 
surmised that electricity and the lightning of the heavens were one 
and the same fluid, but no one had succeeded in demonstrating 
that such was actually the fact. In a paper dated November 7, 
1749, Franklin enumerates all the known points of resemblance 
between lightning and electricity. In the first place, he remarks, 
it is no wonder that the effects of the one should be so much 
greater than the other ; for if two gun barrels, electrified, will 
strike at the distance of two inches, and make a loud report, at 
how great a distance will ten thousand acres of electrified cloud 
strike and give its fire, and how loud must be that crack ? He 
then notices the crooked and waving course both of the flash of 






BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 441 

lightning and, in some cases, of the electric sparks ; the tendency 
of lightning, like electricity, to take the readiest and best conduct- 
or ; the fact that lightning, like electricity, dissolves metals, burns 
some bodies, rends others, strikes people blind, destroys animal 
life, reverses the poles of magnets, etc. From these obvious prem- 
ises he concludes that the fluid is the same. But how to dem- 
onstrate this, so that no kind of keen skepticism could demolish 
the fact ? At first he thought he might make a successful series 
of experiments from some high tower, such as the spire of a 
church, etc. ; but there was no such thing at hand. It is true 
a large spire was in process of erection, but it might be months, 
years, before it was finished, and men on the eve of a great dis- 
covery are naturally impatient. Other means were to be discov- 
ered. The philosopher walked about, and measured the height 
of every projection in his mind's eye. None of them were tall 
enough to snatch the lightnings from the heavens and land them 
in safety at his feet ; not even the trees, whose riven trunks spoke 
only of their fury. One day he was taking a thoughtful walk in 
his accustomed way, quietly watching every thing and turning it 
to philosophical account. His attention was directed to a little 
boy, who, with a face full of glee, watched the stately sweepings 
of a kite which he had sent up high into the sky. In a moment 
the idea struck him that here was the method of reaching the 
clouds in the quickest and most inexpensive manner. He went 
home and constructed a kite of silk, and with this simple appara- 
tus awaited the next thunder-storm. It came, and, accompanied 
only by his son, Franklin repaired to the fields, raised the kite, and 
waited the result. This was in June, 1752. To the lower end 
of the string he fastened a key, and insulated it by attaching it to 
a post with silk threads. For some time no effect was percepti- 
ble. At length, however, just as Franklin was beginning to de- 
spair, he observed some loose ends of the hempen string rise and 
stand erect, indicating that they were under the influence of the 
electric fluid. He immediately applied his knuckles to the key, 
and, to his inexpressible joy, drew forth the well-known spark, and 
received the most welcome rap of the knuckles that any man ever 
received. As the rain came on, the kite and the cord became 
better conductors, and the key gave out copious streams of elec- 
tricity. By this simple experiment, Franklin solved the great 
philosophical problem of the day, and gained a merited immortal- 

T 2 



442 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ity. Eminently practical in every thing he did, his next endeav- 
or was to render this discovery of some benefit to mankind. He 
was not long in doing so. Wherever you see a lightning con- 
ductor guarding the exposed angles of a dwelling, and arresting 
the fierce thrusts of the forked lightning, think of Franklin. He 
was the inventor of lightning conductors. 

In course of time, the fame of these experiments reached Eu- 
rope. Franklin was recognized as an eminent philosopher, and 
his papers were quickly translated into the European languages. 
Many learned degrees were conferred on him, and the Royal So- 
ciety of London made amends for early neglect by voluntarily 
choosing him a member of their body ; remitting all the custom- 
ary fees, and furnishing him with their " Transactions" gratui- 
tously. In 1753 they presented him with the gold medal of Sir 
Godfrey Copley, accompanied with a very handsome speech. 
Some years afterward, the University of St. Andrew's conferred 
upon him the degree of Doctor of Laws, and its example was fol- 
lowed by the Universities of Edinburgh and Oxford. 

We have dwelt exclusively on Franklin's electrical experiments 
and discoveries, for it is on these that his fame principally rests ; 
but, if our space permitted, we could dilate with equal pleasure 
on other phases of his philosophical career. We must, however, 
return to the memoir of his life, now entirely devoted to the pub- 
lic good, and will only add, in the words of Lord Brougham, that 
"his discoveries were made with hardly any apparatus at all; 
and if at any time he had been led to employ instruments of a 
somewhat less ordinary description, he never seemed satisfied un- 
til he had, as it were, afterward translated the process by resolv- 
ing the problem with such simple machinery that you might say 
he had done it wholly unaided by apparatus." 

Franklin's mission to London as the agent of the Assembly 
comprehended more than had been intrusted to any previous 
agency. It was one not only of reconciliation, but of remedy — 
to cure and to prevent. Innumerable difficulties were, of course, 
thrown in his way by the proprietaries, and for the first year lit- 
tle or nothing was done. The public mind, too, was distracted 
by the war on the Continent, and public men were querulous 
with the colonists for making a noise about their affairs at such 
a moment. Franklin found plenty to do, however. He vindi- 
cated his cause with his pen, and the journalist who ventured to 



BENJAMIN FKANKLIN. 443 

attack him invariably got the worst of it. Several brisk fights 
took place, and any number of pamphlets were discharged by the 
disputants. It was not until 1760 that the business upon which 
he was sent to England was satisfactorily concluded. In the fol- 
lowing summer he made a tour of Europe, and in August, 1762, 
arrived once more in Philadelphia. During his absence he had 
been chosen to represent the city in the Provincial Assembly, 
and on his appearance in the House they voted three thousand 
pounds to defray his expenses, and their thanks for his services 
on their behalf. " Franklin replied that he was thankful to the 
House for the very handsome and generous allowance they had 
been pleased to make him for his services, but that the approba- 
tion of the House was in his estimation far above every other 
kind of recompense." 

It was not possible to effect any lasting sympathy between the 
English proprietors and the colonists. The governor appointed 
by the former was always too ready to lend himself to their inter- 
ests, and to abuse the confidence and liberality of the Americans. 
After again experiencing the truth of this, the Pennsylvanians 
determined on their often-threatened appeal to the throne, pray- 
ing the king to take the province out of the hands of the proprie- 
taries, and assume its government. This course had been pursued 
by several other provinces, and always with decided advantage. 
Franklin warmly approved of the plan, and, in consequence, in- 
curred the displeasure of the governmental members, and, mainly 
through their exertions, lost his seat in the House. But he was 
encouraged by the people, and in spite of all opposition, and to 
the intense chagrin of the governor, was appointed once more a 
commissioner to England to present the petition, and discharge 
all necessary duties relating thereto. " Under whatever circum- 
stances this second mission was undertaken, it appears to have 
been a measure preordained of Heaven ; and it will be forever 
remembered to the honor of Pennsylvania that the agent selected 
to assert and defend the rights of a single province at the court of 
Great Britain became the bold assertor of the rights of America 
in general, and, beholding the fetters that were forging for her, 
conceived the magnanimous thought of rending them asunder be- 
fore they could be riveted."* On the 7th of November — less than 
a fortnight after his appointment — Franklin embarked at Chester 
* Dr. William Smith. 



444 SELF-MADE MEN. 

for England. A cavalcade of three hundred of his friends attended 
him to the wharf, and took an affectionate farewell. The expenses 
of his agency were subscribed by the merchants of Philadelphia, to 
be reimbursed by the next Assembly. Franklin reached Ports- 
mouth on the 9th of December, 1764, after a short passage of 
thirty days. He found the people of England more occupied 
with the affairs of America than usual, arising from the discus- 
sions on the Stamp Act in the newspapers and in the houses of 
Parliament, and the opposition which that measure had provoked 
in the colonies. He complained of the disposition of the people. 
"Every man in England," he said, "seems to consider himself as 
a piece of a sovereign over America, seems to jostle himself into 
the throne with the king, and talks of our subjects in the colonies" 
Once more he took up the cudgels for his countrymen, and fought 
their battles in the newspapers. In the mean time, the object of 
his mission seemed to progress favorably, and there appeared to 
be every reason for supposing that the king would receive the pe- 
tition. On the 22d of March, 1765, however, the famous Stamp 
Act was passed. Franklin had opposed it with all the force and 
ability he could command, but without avail. The English min- 
isters were irritated with the independent tone of the colonists, 
and not disposed to listen to the cool reasoning of their representa- 
tive. It is fortunate for us that they did not. The law became 
a dead letter; at the beginning of 1776 not a single stamp was 
to be found in America. Every schoolboy knows the history of 
this remarkable period, and it is not necessary to repeat it here. 
In England the opposition of the colonists caused great excite- 
ment, the ministry was dissolved, and a new one called into power. 
American affairs were the leading topics of parliamentary discus- 
sion. All sorts of plans were concocted for coaxing, conciliating, 
driving, or bullying the obstreperous colonists. The new minis- 
try, conscious of the errors of its predecessor, brought in a meas- 
ure for the repeal of the obnoxious act, and, after a long and stormy 
discussion, carried it ; but it was too late to do any good. In the 
course of this struggle, Dr. Franklin was called before the com- 
mittee of the whole house, to whom had been referred the peti- 
tions of the colonists, and other papers relating to the controversy. 
He was not unprepared for the call, and took good care to be well 
up in his answers. The account of the examination, which was 
extremely lengthy, and embraced a great variety of topics, was 
afterward published, and immediately became a document of great 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 445 

parliamentary importance. It gave a clear and comprehensive 
idea of the state and condition of America, and of the temper and 
feeling which prevailed there concerning the measure in question. 
The questions are put with subtlety and judgment, says a critic 
in the Gentleman's Magazine for 1767, and they are answered with 
such deep and familiar knowledge of the subject, such precision 
and perspicuity, such temper, and yet such spirit, as did honor to 
Dr. Franklin, and justified the general opinion of his character 
and abilities. 

After the repeal of the Stamp Act, Franklin recruited his health 
by taking a tour in Germany and France. He was received cor- 
dially wherever he went, not only in the halls of learning, but in 
the courts of princes. On his return to England, public business 
crowded upon him. In 1768 he was appointed agent for Georgia ; 
in 1769 he was chosen agent for New Jersey, and in 1770 Massa- 
chusetts paid him a similar compliment. His Pennsylvania agency 
still continued, and thus, at the ripe age of sixty-four, he had the 
agency of four colonies, in each of which circumstances of peculiar 
difficulty and embarrassment required the full exercise of his wis- 
dom and prudence. Fresh difficulties were constantly occurring 
between the colonial governors and the people. Events were 
rapidly ripening for the coming struggle, and every arrival fur- 
nished material for the invective of statesmen and the spleen of 
party presses. Franklin's position in the British metropolis was 
by no means enviable. In a letter to a friend, he said, " I do not 
find I have gained any point in either country, except that of ren- 
dering myself suspected by my impartiality — in England of being 
too much an American, and in America of being too much an 
Englishman." The latter suspicion came to a sudden death when 
the events of the Revolutionary war rendered a decided position 
necessary. Indeed, it became weaker and weaker every year, and 
the displeasure of the British government (who persisted in look- 
ing on Franklin as the representative man of America, as indeed 
he was) proportionately increased. In 1774 he was dismissed 
from his office of postmaster general. It was intended as a meas- 
ure of retaliation, but its effect was highly beneficial to Franklin's 
reputation. " It relieved him at once from his anomalous position 
as the holder of office under the British government, and removed 
the suspicion that his enemies entertained and encouraged that he 
was playing a double part."* 

* Weld's Life of Franklin. 



44G SELF-MADE MEN. 

During his sojourn in England Franklin was overtaken by 
a heavy affliction ; he received intelligence of the death of his 
wife, to whom he had been wedded forty-four years, and who, in 
all his successes, had been the constant object of his affectionate 
pride. The blow was a severe one for Franklin, and contributed 
in some measure to his additional sojourn in England, although 
the public duties with which he was charged rendered this to 
some extent necessary. The state of affairs in America entirely 
engrossed the public mind ; debates in either House of Parliament 
were of daily occurrence, and the members who participated in 
them sought the assistance of Franklin, whose great experience 
and diplomatic sagacity were of invaluable service to his country- 
men in tempering the zeal of their patriotism. The English min- 
isters, however, proved intractable, and, after ten years of inces- 
sant effort, Franklin returned to Philadelphia (May, 1775), with 
bold and decided ideas as to the future policy of America. On 
the day after his arrival the Assembly of Pennsylvania elected 
him to the Continental Congress ; also a member of the Com- 
mittee of Safety. To the various duties of these important offices 
he devoted himself with earnestness, and throughout the great 
drama of Independence he was a principal actor. It is unneces- 
sary to repeat the events of this period ; they are a part of our 
common history, and must be studied separately. 

On the 26th of September, 1776, Franklin was appointed a 
commissioner to join Silas Deane and Arthur Lee, already in Eu- 
rope, and " transact the business of the United States at the court 
of France." He arrived in that country in December of the same 
year. The object of the mission was to obtain the moral and ma- 
terial aid of France for the struggling republic ; and it was tri- 
umphantly gained. Money and munitions of war were loaned by 
the French monarch, and any quantity of volunteers offered their 
services to fight against their ancient foe, the English. In 1778, 
a formal treaty of commerce was signed between the American 
commissioners on the one part, and France on the other, and in 
March of the same year the commissioners were formally received 
by the French monarch as the representatives of an independent 
power. It is, of course, unjust to attribute the entire success of 
this mission to Franklin, but he, perhaps, more than any other 
individual member, contributed, by the popularity and known rec- 
titude of his character, to its successful issue. On the dissolu- 



BENJAMIN FRANKLIN. 447 

tion of the commission, Franklin was appointed minister plen- 
ipotentiary, and in that capacity remained in France to perform 
a great variety of offices, divided, in the present day, among sev- 
eral representatives. His industry was truly marvelous, and equal 
to any emergency. Although far advanced in years, he displayed 
the liveliest mental activity, throwing himself into the topics of 
the day, scientific and political, with the fervor of youth. When 
the time arrived for coming to terms with Great Britain, he was 
appointed one of the United States commissioners to effect a 
treaty of peace between the two countries. A great deal of del- 
icate skill had to be displayed in the construction of this treaty, 
for there were keen susceptibilities on both sides which might 
easily be wounded. The calmness, dignity, and wisdom of Frank- 
lin's bearing was of inestimable value. So excellently was the 
preliminary treaty drawn up, that on the 3d of September, 1783, 
it was signed as the definitive one. After thus happily assisting 
at the inauguration of peace, Franklin insisted on returning to 
his own country. He had been absent in France for nearly nine 
years, and felt that he could no longer resist the encroachments 
of age. On the 27th of July, 1785, he set sail from London, and 
on the 14th of September he arrived once more in Philadelphia, 
where he was received with every demonstration of popular love 
and respect. It was difficult for a man of Franklin's eminence to 
obtain the repose of private life. So long had he been accustom- 
ed to bear the weight of public duties, that he could not throw 
off the load without injury to himsel£ The remaining years of 
his life were destined to be passed in the public service and in 
the pursuit of scientific subjects. He was chosen (1787) a dele- 
gate to the Convention for adopting a Constitution for the United 
States, and was a working member of that body. During the 
last years of his life he continued to wield his pen with the force 
and clearness of youth, and never missed an opportunity of prov- 
ing that he was yet hale and hearty in mind, if weak and feeble 
in body. 

Dr. Franklin suffered severely from gout, to which was added 
a painful calculous disease. The two became so distressing and 
continuous that he was scarcely able to leave his bed for the last 
twelve months of his life. " About sixteen days before his death," 
writes Dr. Jones, who attended the philosopher in his last sick- 
ness, " he was seized with a feverish disposition, without any par- 



448 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ticular symptoms attending it till the third or fourth day, when 
he complained of a pain in his left breast, which increased until 
it became extremely acute, attended by a cough and laborious 
breathing. During this state, when the severity of his pains drew 
forth a groan of complaint, he would observe that he was afraid 
that he did not bear them as he ought ; acknowledging his grate- 
ful sense of the many blessings he had received from the Supreme 
Being, who had raised him from small and low beginnings to such 
high rank and consideration among men, and made no doubt but 
that his present afflictions were kindly intended to wean him from 
a world in which he was no longer fit to act the part assigned 
him. In this frame of body and mind he continued until five 
days before his death, when the pain and difficulty of breathing 
entirely left him, and his family were flattering themselves with 
the hopes of his recovery ; but an imposthume, which had formed 
in his lungs, suddenly burst, and discharged a quantity of matter, 
which he continued to throw up while he had power, but, as that 
failed, the organs of respiration became gradually oppressed, a 
calm, lethargic state succeeded, and on the 17th instant (April, 
1790), about eleven o'clock at night, he quietly expired, closing 
a long and useful life of eighty-four years and three months." 
The funeral took place on the 21st of April, and his remains 
were placed, according to his request, at the side of those of his 
wife, in the northwest corner of Christ Church cemetery. No 
monument marks his resting-place, for he had by will prescribed 
a plain marble slab. When a young man of twenty-three years, 
he penned the following quaint epitaph : 

The Body 
of 

BENJAMIN FRANKLIN 

(Like the Cover of an old Book, 

Its contents torn out, 

and stripped of its lettering and gilding) 

Lies here, food for worms. 

But the work shall not be lost, 

For it will, as he believed, appear once more 

In a new and more elegant edition, 

Revised and corrected 

by 

The Author. 



OLIYEE EYANS. 

Oliver Evans, who has been called the Watt of America, 
was born at Newport, Delaware, about the year 1755 or 1756. 
His parents were respectable farmers, and at the age of fourteen 
Oliver was placed as an apprentice to a wheelwright — an excel- 
lent and lucrative business. Having received but the simple ru- 
diments of an education, Oliver was desirous of improving him- 
self, and in the evenings, when his regular work was done, de- 
voted himself attentively to study. His master, an illiterate man, 
observing the youth engaged in what he considered an unprofit- 
able amusement, endeavored to put a stop to it by denying Ol- 
iver the use of candles. But the thirst for knowledge is not so 
easily snuffed out. Oliver collected the shavings he had made 
during the day, set them in a blaze, and continued his studies 
by their grateful light. 

At this early period of his life young Evans gave evidence of 
the possession of active inventive faculties. He endeavored to 
find out a method of propelling carriages on common roads with- 
out the aid of horses or other animal power. All that had been 
written on the subject he perused carefully, studied the various 
experiments, and made himself master of the subject gener- 
ally. The result was that he concluded it impracticable with 
the means then known to mechanics. During this time, howev- 
er, he became acquainted with the powers of steam ; he renewed 
his experiment, and with increased confidence in this force he de- 
clared unhesitatingly that he could accomplish his object. Of 
course, such a confident declaration, coming from so young a man, 
excited the ridicule of his hearers, and compelled him to abandon 
his scheme until a later day, when more age, if not more wisdom, 
would give weight and importance to his opinion. 

Evans's ingenuity and aptness carried him much beyond the 
limits of his trade. "When he was twenty-three or twenty-four 
years of age he was engaged hi making card teeth by hand, that 
being the only way then known. Finding this process too slow, 
he set his wits to work and contrived a machine that would man- 



450 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ufacture three thousand a minute, and perform the work with 
much more satisfaction and completeness than by hand. He was 
cheated out of his right to the profit of this invention. It was 
the usual fate of an inventor. 

At the age of twenty-five Mr. Evans married, and soon after 
entered into business with his brothers, who were millers. Here 
was a proper field for the exercise of his ingenuity, and he culti- 
vated it in a way that has placed the milling fraternity under 
perpetual obligations to him. The improvements and inventions 
he applied were the elevator, the conveyor, the hopper-boy, the 
drill, and the descender, which five machines are variously applied 
in different mills according to their construction, so as to perform 
every necessary movement of the grain and meal from one part 
of the mill to the other, or from one machine to another, through 
all the various operations, from the time the grain is supplied from 
the farmer's wagon until it is converted into flour, ready for send- 
ing to all parts of the world. These improvements were labor- 
saving, and important in every respect. They required much time 
to perfect, and were, of course, received with opposition from in- 
terested sources. It was extremely difficult to introduce them. 
Mr. Evans dispatched his brother through the States of Pennsyl- 
vania, Delaware, Maryland, and Virginia, to offer his inventions 
gratis to the first in each county who would adopt them. Not- 
withstanding this remarkable inducement, he returned wholly 
unsuccessful, and without any favorable prospects for the future. 
The Brandywine millers, in particular, were especially hostile, 
and it was only after several mills had adopted the improvements 
that they held a consultation to inquire into its merits. The re- 
sult of this meeting was conveyed to Mr. Evans in the following 
language — -at least so Mr. Howe says, in his biographical sketch : 
" Oliver, we have had a meeting, and agreed that, if thou would 
furnish all the materials, and thy own boarding, and come thyself 
to set up the machinery in one of our mills, thee may come and 
try, and, if it answers a valuable purpose, we will pay thy bill ; 
but if it does not answer, thee must take it all out again, and 
leave the mill just as thee finds it, at thy own expense." Those 
Brandywine millers were very obstinate and very blind up to the 
last moment, and gave no end of trouble to poor Evans, for they 
had the reputation of being excellent in their business, and hund- 
reds of others were influenced by their decision. They were the 



OLIVER EVANS. 451 

last to adopt the improvements, and paid the penalty of their 
tardiness by losing much of their pre-eminence. 

Mr. Evans was successful in obtaining patents for his inven- 
tions, among which was a steam-carriage to run on common roads, 
but the latter was considered so visionary that he was unable to 
obtain a capitalist to join him in the speculation. In 1800 or 
1801, Mr. Evans determined to construct a steam-carriage at his 
own expense. He set about doing so, and had to make many 
modifications and new appliances in the steam-engine necessary 
for this purpose. The result was an engine of a new construction, 
useful not only for this, but for other purposes. Struck with this 
circumstance, he conceived the possibility of obtaining a patent, 
and forthwith laid aside his carriage to perfect the engine. He 
constructed a model on a large scale, and expended every sixpence 
he possessed in bringing it to perfection. At the age of forty-eight 
he found himself without means, with a large family, and with 
nothing to fall back upon but the model of a steam-engine, which 
few could understand, and against which there was much preju- 
dice, even among scientific men. He had staked every thing on 
this last cast. We will give the result in his own words. "I 
could break and grind three hundred bushels of plaster of Paris, 
or twelve tons, in twenty-four hours ; and, to show its operations 
more fully to the public, I applied it to saw stone, on the side of 
Market Street, where the driving of twelve saws in heavy frames, 
sawing at the rate of one hundred feet of marble in twelve hours, 
made a great show, and excited much attention. I thought this 
was sufficient to convince the thousands of spectators of the utility 
of my discovery, but I frequently heard them inquire if the power 
could be applied to saw timber as well as stone, to grind grain, 
propel boats, etc., and, though I answered in the affirmative, they 
still doubted. I therefore determined to apply my engine to all 
new uses, to introduce it and them to the public. This experi- 
ment completely tested the correctness of my principles. The 
power of my engine rises in a geometrical proportion, while the 
consumption of fuel has only an arithmetical ratio, in such pro- 
portion that every time I added one fourth more to the consump- 
tion of the fuel, its powers were doubled, and that twice the quan- 
tity of fuel required to drive one saw would drive sixteen saws 
at least ; for when I drove two saws, the consumption was eight 
bushels of coal in twelve hours, but when twelve saws were driven 



452 SELF-MADE MEN. 

the consumption was not more than ten bushels ; so that, the more 
we resist the steam, the greater is the effect of the engine. On 
these principles very light but powerful engines can be made, suit- 
able for propelling boats and land-carriages, without the great en- 
cumbrance of their weight as mentioned in Latrobe's demonstra- 
tion." 

In 1804 Mr. Evans applied his engine successfully to the dredg- 
ing apparatus employed on the Schuylkill, performing all the oper- 
ations that were required of it, and propelling the vessel in the 
steam-boat fashion of the present day, except that the wheel was 
behind. Even this did not satisfy the skeptics. They persisted 
in looking on Evans's imperfect machine as the consummation of 
all that could be effected in that way, and abused it for its slow- 
ness and weight. The inventor silenced them by answering that 
he would make a carriage propelled by steam, for a wager of three 
thousand dollars, to run upon a level road against the swiftest 
horse that could be produced. This machine Evans named the 
Oructor Amphibolis, and Mr. Howe states that it was the first 
application in America of steam power to the propelling of land- 
carriages. In the same year Mr. Evans made a proposition to the 
Lancaster Turnpike Company to construct carriages on the same 
principle, but the company paid no attention to his request. He 
was absolutely without patronage and sympathy. Possessing as 
he did the secret of the high-pressure principle — a principle of 
universal application in the present day, and indispensable on rail- 
roads and rapid streams — he was treated with contempt and scorn 
as an idler and a visionary. How far this was the case will be 
seen from the following quotation from his writings, which speaks 
almost in the language of prophecy : " The time will come when 
people will travel in stages moved by steam-engines from one city 
to another, almost as fast as birds fly, fifteen or twenty miles an 
hour. Passing through the air with such velocity, changing the 
scene in such rapid succession, will be the most exhilarating- 
exercise. A carriage (steam) will set out from "Washington in 
the morning, the passengers will breakfast at Baltimore, dine at 
Philadelphia, and sup in New York the same day. To accom- 
plish this, two sets of rail- ways will be laid, so nearly level as not 
in any way to deviate more than two degrees from a horizontal 
line, made of wood or iron, or smooth paths of broken stone or 
gravel, with a rail to guide the carriages, so that they may pass 



OLIVER EVANS. 453 

each other in different directions, and travel by night as well as 
by day. Engines will drive boats ten or twelve miles per hour, 
and there will be many hundred steam-boats running on the Mis- 
sissippi." 

Upward of thirteen years were required to introduce his mill 
inventions and improvements, and the expenses were so great 
that the fees received from the licenses were barely sufficient to 
cover them. But even this was too much for unfortunate Mr. 
Evans. When the advantages of his system became more fully 
recognized, the inducements to cheat were augmented. He ap- 
pealed to the United States Circuit Court of Pennsylvania, but, 
through some informality in the patent, the decision was against 
him, and his mean enemies were at liberty for a time to rob him. 
In 1808, however, he petitioned Congress for a new patent, and 
was successful in obtaining it, and even in sustaining it against 
the interested opposition of a number of millers, who presented a 
memorial to Congress, saying " that the public had been grossly 
deceived in regard to Evans being the original inventor of his 
patented mill machines ; for, so far from having invented all, he 
was not the original inventor of any of them." 

The remainder of Evans's life was spent in useful devotion to 
the subjects of steam and mechanics. He succeeded in establish- 
ing an iron foundry and machine shop in Philadelphia, where he 
had ample opportunity for making experiments and executing his 
plans on a limited scale. There is no doubt that, had Evans been 
favored by circumstances, and by kindly patronage and support, 
he would have proved himself one of the most distinguished in- 
ventors of the age. His experiments on the subject of steam- ; 
boat navigation were made fifteen or twenty years before those of 
Fulton, and his high-pressure engine was the parent of all steam 
appliances on rail-road or river. As it was, the world treated 
him with neglect, and he died poor and broken-hearted, while 
men of less native genius, but more practical temperament, bore 
off the palm. Mr. Evans died on the 21st of April, 1819. 




\T^0 



ROGER SHEEMAK 

Roger Sherman was born at Newton, Massachusetts, on the 
19th of April, 1721. His ancestors came from Dedham, England, 
about the year 1635, and settled at Watertown, near the place of 
his nativity. The father of Roger Sherman was a respectable 
farmer, but his circumstances were too humble to allow him to 
give his son much of an education. Young Roger enjoyed all the 
limited advantages of the parish school, and at an early age was 
apprenticed to a shoemaker, whom he served faithfully for five or 
six years, and continued to follow the occupation for many years 
after. From his youth Roger Sherman was distinguished by an 
eager thirst for knowledge, and neither the limited means of his 
school nor the long hours of his daily toil interfered with his pur- 
suit of knowledge. He was in the habit of sitting at his work 
with a book before him, devoting to study every moment that his 
eyes could leave the work on which he was engaged. In this way 
he gained a very commendable acquaintance with general science, 
the system of logic, geography, mathematics, the general princi- 



ROGER SHERMAN. 455 

pies of history, philosophy, theology, and particularly law and 
politics. 

In 1741 his father died, leaving him the responsible head of a 
large family. This was a serious trust, but Roger, although only 
twenty years of age, felt the weight of the obligation, and dis- 
charged it with kindness and devotion. Toward his mother, who 
was spared to see her son eminent and honored, he manifested 
the most devoted attachment. 

In 1743 Roger Sherman removed to the town of New Milford, 
where he commenced business as a shoemaker, but, as the spec- 
ulation did not promise to be lucrative, he abandoned it, and 
went into trade with an elder brother, who resided in the same 
place. The undertaking was successful, and Sherman became a 
man of mark in the community. His knowledge of mathematics 
was now put to practical use. He was appointed county survey- 
or. In 1748 he also supplied the astronomical calculations for 
an almanac published hi New York city, and continued to do so 
for several subsequent years. 

In 1749 Roger Sherman married, and this event gave a new 
direction to his thoughts, and a new impetus to his aims. An 
anecdote is related of him at this time. A neighbor had become 
involved in difficulties, arising out of the settlement of a testa- 
mentary trust. He needed legal advice, and stated his case to 
Sherman, who, as we have already mentioned, made law one of 
his numerous studies. Sherman took down the heads of the case 
in writing, and was then desired to consult with a lawyer who 
resided in a neighboring town. He did so, and, while conversing 
with this gentleman, made frequent reference to his memorandum. 
As it was necessary to make an application, by way of petition, 
to the proper tribunal, the lawyer desired that Sherman's minutes 
might be left with him. Sherman reluctantly consented, telling 
him that they were merely jotted down for his own use. The 
lawyer read the document with surprise. He perceived that, 
with the addition of a few technicalities, it was equal to any pe- 
tition which he himself could prepare, and, consequently, that 
none other was necessary. Upon this the legal gentleman made 
some inquiries concerning Sherman's avocations, and being told 
that he was a shoemaker by trade, urged him to abandon that 
business, and adopt a profession for which nature had evidently 
qualified him. The demands of a large family prevented his act- 






456 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ing on this suggestion immediately, but it gave a direction to his 
future studies, and paved the way for the distinction which he 
afterward obtained. In 1754 he was qualified and admitted to 
the bar. His practical and sound judgment, combined with in- 
flexible integrity, soon gave him a pre-eminence in his profession, 
and pointed him out as a fitting object for public trust. In 1755 
he was appointed a justice of the peace for New Milford, and was 
also elected a member of the Colonial Assembly. Four years 
later he was appointed judge of the Court of Common Pleas for 
the county of Litchfield, and for two years discharged the duties 
of that office with distinguished ability. He then removed to 
New Haven, where he acted as treasurer of Yale College. In 
consideration of his attainments and studious habits, he received 
from that learned institution the honorary degree of Master of 
Arts. In the following year (1766) the colony elected him a 
member of the Upper House in the General Assembly of Con- 
necticut. As the members of the Upper House held their meet- 
ings with closed doors, we have no record of his career in that 
body ; but from the subsequent events of his life we may reason- 
ably suppose that it was satisfactory. During the same year Mr. 
Sherman was also appointed judge of the Superior Court of Con- 
necticut. The first office he retained for twenty-three years, the 
last for nineteen years. He would probably have held them much 
longer had not a law been passed rendering the two offices in- 
compatible. 

We have briefly recapitulated the offices of trust bestowed on 
Mr. Sherman prior to the Revolution, and may now turn to the 
latter, as the drama in which Mr. Sherman became one of the 
principal actors, and with which, to the end of time, his name will 
be associated. In August, 1774, Mr. Sherman was nominated 
delegate to the General Congress of the colonies. It was a pe- 
riod requiring great calmness, unusual sagacity, and unflinching 
patriotism ; and when Roger Sherman took his seat in the first 
Continental Congress, every one knew, and acknowledged, that he 
brought these requisites with him, and would even there be the 
glory of his country. He soon became one of the most prominent 
men in the assembly, and was appointed to the most important 
committees, among which was one to concert a plan of military 
operations for the campaign of 1776 ; to prepare and digest a form 
of confederation, and to repair to head-quarters at New York, 



ROGER SHERMAN. 457 

and examine into the state of the army. But what was more im- 
portant than these was that, in connection with Franklin, Adams, 
Jefferson, and Livingston, he was one of the committee appoint- 
ed to prepare the Declaration of Independence. This immortal 
document, as is well known, was written by Jefferson, and it is 
probable that Sherman's influence was principally exerted in car- 
rying it through Congress ; but that he was engaged at all argues 
the consideration in which he was held. John Adams says of 
him that he was " one of the soundest and strongest pillars of 
the Kevolution." He was indefatigable in his labors, and consid- 
ered nothing too minute for his special attention. 

In 1784 Mr. Sherman was elected mayor of New Haven, an 
office which he held for the remainder of his life. Toward the 
close of the war he was appointed one of the committee to re- 
vise the laws of the state, and in 1787 received a similar appoint- 
ment to form the Constitution of the United States. Among his 
manuscripts a paper has been found, containing a series of propo- 
sitions prepared by him for the amendment of the old Articles of 
Confederation, the greater part of which are incorporated, in sub- 
stance, in the new Constitution. In the debates in that conven- 
tion Mr. Sherman bore an important part. In a letter to Gen- 
eral Floyd, he expresses his opinion of the Constitution. "Per- 
haps a better Constitution could not be made upon mere specula- 
tion. If, upon experience, it should be found to be deficient, it 
provides an easy and peaceable mode of making amendments ; 
but if the Constitution should be adopted, and the several states 
choose some of their wisest and best men, from time to time, to 
administer the government, I believe it will not want any amend- 
ment. I hope that kind Providence, which guarded these states 
through a dangerous and distressing war to peace and liberty, 
will still watch over them, and guide them in the way of safety." 

Having exerted all his power to secure a proper form of gov- 
ernment, Sherman's abilities were now called in demand to secure 
its adoption by his native state. There were many local objec- 
tions and prejudices to overthrow — objections which, in some 
states, were nearly fatal. Mainly owing to Sherman's argument 
and influence, Connecticut adopted the Constitution. After its 
ratification, he was immediately elected a representative of the 
state in Congress. He served in this capacity for two years, and 
was then elected to the United States Senate (1791). He con- 

U 



458 SELF-MADE MEN. 

tinued in the full discharge of his senatorial duties until death 
dragged him from the helm. Mr. Sherman died on the 23d of 
July, 1793, in the seventy-third year of his age. 

Mr. Sherman was a man of strictly religious principles and in- 
stincts. He was a devout reader of the Bible, and it was his cus- 
tom to purchase a copy of the Scriptures at the commencement 
of every session of Congress, to peruse it daily, and to present it 
to one of his children on his return. His temperament was of a 
high moral order, and healthy as his physical man. It was im- 
possible to swerve him from the line of conscientious duty : in- 
tegrity was the essence of his thoughts, and penetrated his small- 
est action. He was remarkable for common sense, and for tak- 
ing a clear view of perplexed subjects which others scarcely dared 
to handle. " He was capable of deep and long investigation. 
While others, weary of a short attention to business, were relax- 
ing themselves in thoughtless inattention or dissipation, he was 
employed in prosecuting the same business, either by revolving it 
in his mind, and ripening his own thought upon it, or in confer- 
ring with others." It was in this way that he accomplished so 
much, and did it so well. In person Mr. Sherman was considerably 
above the common height ; his form was erect and well propor- 
tioned ; his complexion fair, and his countenance manly and agree- 
able. His bearing was naturally modest, but, when matters of 
importance were discussed, he became unreserved, free, and com- 
municative. 

The following is the inscription on the tablet which is placed 
over his tomb : 

In memory of 

the Hon. ROGER SHERMAN, Esq., 

Mayor of the City of New Haven, 

and Senator of the United States. 

He was born at Newton, in Massachusetts, 

April 19th, 1721, 

and died in New Haven, July 23d, A.D. 1793, 

aged LXXII. 

Possessed of a strong, clear, penetrating mind y 

and singular perseverance, 

he became the self-taught scholar, 

eminent for jurisprudence and policy. 

He was nineteen years an assistant, 

and twenty-three years a judge of the Superior Court. 

in high reputation. 



ROGER SHERMAN. 459 

He was a delegate in the first Congress, 

signed the glorious Act of Independence, 

and many years displayed superior talents and ability 

in the national Legislature. 

He was a member of the General Convention, 

approved the Federal Constitution, 

and served his country with fidelity and honor 

in the House of Representatives, 

and in the Senate of the United States. 

He was a man of approved integrity ; 

a cool, discriminating judge ; 

a prudent, sagacious politician ; 

a true, faithful, and firm patriot. 

He ever adorned 

the profession of Christianity 

which he made in youth ; 

and, distinguished through life 

for public usefulness, 

died in the prospect of a blessed immortality. 




EOBEKT FULTON. 

It seldom happens that a man of genius receives the full meas- 
ure of homage to which he is entitled. He is apt to be ridiculed 
as a visionary, and persecuted as a plagiarist during his life, and 
forgotten after his death. These hard conditions seem to be the 
penalty which one man pays for overlapping his neighbor in in- 
tellectual greatness ; a sort of iniquitous compensation which the 
rabble insists on establishing. If there is one man more than an- 
other who fortunately can not complain of this cruel injustice, it 
is Eobert Fulton. Every American must experience a thrill of 
satisfaction in knowing that the greatest benefactor of his coun- 
try lives also in its best recollection. The name of Fulton is truly 
"familiar in our mouths as household words." In every consid- 
erable city of the New World the streets are named after him ; 
large and populous cities bear his honored name; across every 
Ocean, through every inlet, away to the remotest corners of the 
earth, richly-laden vessels, also named after him, plow their rapid 
way. It is not only their name, but their present perfection, that 
they owe to this worthy son of the land of freedom. Without 



EGBERT FULTON. 461 

his application and industry, without his early perception and 
steady pursuit of the useful ends of steam power, America might 
yet be, to a great extent, an impenetrable and unwieldy forest. 
All the vast resources of the great West, all the riches of the 
South, all the industrial resources of the North and East, would 
be limited and narrowed to circumscribed sections of our country, 
and distributed there at greatly enhanced prices. With the rapid 
and convenient transit of the steam-ship, eveiy variety of produce 
is now conveyed to the nearest market, and circulated in material 
wealth to all corners of the land. Every stream, with a respect- 
able depth of water, boasts of its own steam navigation. We 
have all heard of the captain who had a boat of such a buoyant 
character that he could run it any morning after a heavy dew. 
Exaggerations are always based on some truth, and even this gas- 
conade hints at a perfection which really does exist. For this, 
and for all that pertains to the present advanced state of steam 
navigation, we are largely, if not entirely, indebted to Robert Ful- 
ton. It is just and proper that he should be held in high esteem 
by his countrymen, and it is creditable to the latter that they have 
not, like too many other nations, allowed the name of a great ben- 
efactor to sink into oblivion. 

Robert Fulton was born at Little Britain, in Lancaster County, 
Pennsylvania, in the year 1765. His parents were in humble 
condition, and at the death of his father, which occurred when he 
was three years of age, he was left, with very little assistance, to 
cut for himself a path in the rough world. He possessed a native 
taste for art, and could use his pencil skillfully at a very early 
age. So much pleasure did he derive from the exercise of this 
talent, that he became ambitious to excel, with a view to adopt- 
ing the profession of a painter. He made rapid progress, and, at 
the age of seventeen, proceeded to Philadelphia, where he estab- 
lished himself as a painter of portraits and landscapes. In a 
short time he was able to make more than a living ; he could 
save, and, like a sensible, prudent man, provide for the emergen- 
cies of sickness or other accidents of life. Before he was twenty- 
one years of age he had accumulated a little capital sufficient for 
the purchase of a small farm in Washington County, Pennsylva- 
nia, in addition to comforting and supporting a widowed mother. 
It would be well if all young men of talent imitated Fulton's ex- 
ample. By industry and economy he placed a solid bar of com- 



462 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



fort between himself and the exigencies of life, and to this, more 
than any thing else, we owe his subsequent devotion to mechan- 
ics. If he had simply dallied with the arts, he would have been 
a poor painter all his life ; but he seized them with a vigorous 
hand, and moulded them to his purpose. When this was accom- 
plished he breathed more freely, and began to yearn for greater 
perfection, and for communion with men who made art what it 
was — a noble, soul-inspiring vocation. At this time the great 
American painter, Benjamin West, was the ruling spirit of the 
art world, the centre around which all that was great and com- 
manding in wealth and intellect revolved. He was the pet of 
the English aristocracy, and the Jupiter of the fraternity of En- 
glish painters. Now that he was at ease, Fulton determined on 
making a pilgrimage to the temple of this art god. He was 
warmly welcomed by his countryman, and invited to become an 
inmate of his house. Such a cordial invitation was of inestima- 
ble value to the young artist, and he became not only the guest, 
but the pupil of the great master. 

For several years Fulton pursued his studies with devotion and 
success. He made many valuable acquaintances, and, being a 
man of considerable information on mechanical subjects (for which 
he always had a strong regard), he drew around him the sympa- 
thies of a large number of distinguished amateurs, among whom 
may be numbered the Duke of Bridge water and the Earl of Stan- 
hope. The first-named nobleman was the first to introduce a per- 
fect system of canal navigation into the United Kingdom, and, at 
the time Fulton made his acquaintance, was largely interested in 
similar important enterprises all over the country. Fulton had 
devoted some attention to the subject of canals, and Was prepared 
to give well-digested opinions concerning the merits of the vari- 
ous systems then in agitation. The Duke of Bridgewater was so 
well pleased with his aptness in these respects, that he cordial- 
ly recommended him to abandon the profession of painter, and 
take to that of civil engineer. Fulton acted on this advice, and 
shortly afterward we find him residing in Birmingham — the cen- 
tral workshop of England — engaged in the construction of those 
numerous canals which have since added so much to the extent 
and importance of that town. 

Earl Stanhope was a man with a decided genius for mechanics. 
He devoted his time and his fortune to the prosecution of various 



ROBERT FULTON. 463 

experiments in connection with the newly-discovered powers of 
the steam-engine. One of his projects was to propel a vessel 
through the water with gigantic ducks' feet worked by machinery. 
He mentioned this plan to Fulton, but the latter objected to its 
practicability, and suggested other means whereby the desired ob- 
ject might be obtained, he thought, in a more easy and economi- 
cal way. Earl Stanhope continued his experiments, and soon 
found that Fulton's objections were valid and fatal. A few years 
later Fulton applied the suggestions he had proffered to the noble- 
man, and succeeded in propelling satisfactorily the first steam-ves- 
sel that ever pressed its way through the waters. 

Fulton threw himself into the subject of canal navigation with 
great enthusiasm ; wrote a book concerning it, and took out a 
patent for some improvements which he conceived belonged to 
him, but which, in the end, turned out to be of no practical use. 
He made the acquaintance of Watt, and neglected no opportunity 
of improving himself in practical mechanics and machinery. Aft- 
er remaining for some time in Birmingham, he determined on vis- 
iting France. One of his reasons for this step was a desire to 
enter into negotiations with the French government for the sale 
of a marine missile, called a torpedo, which Fulton asserted would 
destroy the navy of an enemy with the greatest possible ease and 
expedition. Experiments were made in the Seine, but with little 
success. The French government declined to have any thing to 
do with Mr. Torpedo. Fulton then offered his invention to the 
English government, and afterward to the government of his own 
country. Extensive experiments were made, but the invention 
was again found wanting, and after a while died a natural death. 
It is fortunate for the world, perhaps, that it did. If it were 
capable of doing what Fulton said it would, he was criminally 
wrong in offering it to any other government than his own. Sucli 
an instrument of warfare should only be placed in the most right- 
eous hands, and where it is likely to be used on the side of truth, 
justice, and human progress. Fulton's conduct in the matter 
shows that he had no moral sentiment on the subject, but merely 
looked out for the best market. 

The Scriptures teach us that out of evil cometh good. It is 
probable that Fulton's efforts in the torpedo line greatly improved 
his mechanical dexterity, and, by bringing him in contact with 
water craft, directed his attention once more to the subject of ma- 



464 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



rine locomotion. Many attempts were being made in all coun- 
tries to invent a vessel which, with the aid of steam, should defy 
the winds and the tides, and move wherever the hand of man 
chose to direct it. Until Mr. Watt had invented his double-action 
condensing engine, there seemed no possibility of effecting this 
desirable object ; but when that great improvement was intro- 
duced, it became apparent to Fulton that the moment had ar- 
rived for victoriously snatching the laurels from various competi- 
tors. There is now no doubt that he did so openly and fairly, 
although it has been the custom to assert that he stole some of 
them, at least, from other men, particularly Fitch and Rumsey. 
We have no space to devote to controversy, nor is it profitable to 
open up a question satisfactorily settled by eminent and conscien- 
tious authorities. All that Fulton claimed they have conceded 
to him. Others may have gone in the same direction that he 
did, and aimed for the same goal, but they did not take the same 
path, and consequently he got there first. 

The improvement Fulton suggested to Earl Stanhope was sim- 
ply to substitute a water-wheel for the propelling power instead 
of an imitation webbed foot. Experience soon proved the latter 
to be of no use, and Fulton was therefore additionally anxious to 
test the merits of his own scheme. He was fortunate in getting 
a partner who not only thoroughly understood the subject, but 
who unhesitatingly expressed his confidence in the success of the 
undertaking. The first experiments were made in France, where 
Mr. Fulton and Mr. Livingston were then living. They were 
measurably successful, and arrangements were entered into for 
the prosecution of the scheme in America. An application was 
at once made to the Legislature of the State of New York for the 
exclusive privilege of navigating its waters by steam. It was con- 
sidered so impracticable that there was no opposition to the grant, 
the only condition being that a vessel should be propelled at the 
rate of four miles an hour within a certain prescribed period. The 
engines for Fulton's first boat were ordered from England, and 
arrived in America in 1806. The vessel was entirely finished in 
August, 1807, and a trial trip was immediately announced, in- 
vitations being sent to all the leading scientific, literary, and po- 
litical men of the city. A more critical assemblage could scarce- 
ly be gathered together, or one more keenly disposed to ridicule 
failure. Many expressed a decided opinion that the whole affair 
was a mere catchpenny humbug ; others shook their heads, as 



ROBERT FULTON 465 

if they knew perfectly well what could be done in the way of 
steam navigation, and were certain that Fulton's was not the 
plan. All were unanimous on one point— that it was worse than 
throwing money away to speculate in such a wild and thriftless 
undertaking. When, however, the unshapely vessel was observed 
to move silently from her dock on the Jersey shore, and cleave 
her course through the foaming stream, the doubters began to have 
doubts about their doubts ; the skeptics, to be skeptical of their 
skepticism ; the lukewarm boiled over with excitement, and the 
indhTerent became enthusiastic. The first turn of the big wheels 
effected a double revolution, in the water and in men's minds. 
Cries of acclamation arose from either shore, and the first steam- 
ship in the world — the Clermont — moved like a mighty conqueror 
amid shouts of wonder and admiration. 

In a few days the Clermont started on her first long trip. This 
was to Albany, and concerning it Mr. Fulton wrote as follows : 
"My steam-boat voyage to Albany and back has turned out rather 
more favorable than I had calculated. The distance from New 
York to Albany is one hundred and fifty miles ; I ran it up in 
thirty-two hours, and down in thirty. I had a light breeze against 
me the whole way, both going and coming, and the voyage has 
been performed wholly by the power of the steam-engine. I over- 
took many sloops and schooners beating to windward, and parted 
with them as if they had been at anchor. The power of propel- 
ling boats by steam is now fully proved. The morning I left New 
York there were not, perhaps, thirty persons in the city who be- 
lieved that the boat would ever move one mile an hour, or be of 
the least utility ; and while we were putting off from the wharf, 
which was crowded with spectators, I heard a number of sarcastic 
remarks. This is the way in which ignorant men compliment 
what they call philosophers and projectors. Having employed 
much time, money, and zeal in accomplishing this work, it gives 
me, as it will you, great pleasure to see it fully answer my expecta- 
tions. It will give a cheap and quick conveyance to the merchan- 
dise on the Mississippi, Missouri, and other great rivers, which arc 
now laying open their treasures to the enterprise of our country- 
men ; and although the prospect of personal emolument has been 
some inducement to me, yet I feel infinitely more pleasure in re- 
flecting on the immense advantage that my country will derive 
from the invention." 

U 2 



466 



SELF-MADE MEN. 





The navigation of the Hudson by steam was now accepted as a 
fact, and the Clermont was regarded as such a public convenience 
that regular voyages were insisted on, and passengers at both ends 
were eager for the opportunity to travel in her. Fulton kept a 
sharp look-out for defects in the machinery, and never went a 
voyage without making extensive observations. In the winter 
the Clermont was remodeled and repaired ; guards and housings 
for the wheels were added, and many other improvements, which 
tended largely to the comfort and expedition of the trip. Un- 
fortunately, however, Mr. Livingston insisted on trying his hand 
at an invention, and popped into the boat a boiler which was, 
no doubt, very pretty in a theoretical point of view, but which, 
as Fulton predicted, turned out practically a complete failure. 
The Clermont lost popularity for a short time in consequence of 
this, but Fulton came to the rescue with a boiler of unquestion- 
able capacity, and all went well again. A regular and rapidly- 
increasing intercourse was thus established by Fulton between 
Albany and New York. It became apparent that more boats 
would be needed, and that an amount of business far exceeding 
his expectations would shortly press on his hands. Nor was he 
without opposition. The skippers of the river entered into com- 
binations against him, and some speculators started a rival boat, 
which was to be moved by a pendulum, but which, in the long run, 
had to be moved by steam and paddle-wheels exactly in the same 
way as Fulton's. As this was clearly an infringement of Living- 
ston and Fulton's rights, they applied to the Court of Chancery for 
an injunction, which, however, was refused. On an appeal to the 
Court of Errors this decision of the chancellor was reversed, and 
the water privileges of the State of New York remained in the 
exclusive possession of Fulton and his associate. Several new 
boats were added to the line, and Fulton, although the possessor 
of large and valuable interests, found himself short of money by 
the incessant disbursements occasioned by the rapidly-increasing 
business of the line. 

In the spring of 1808 Fulton crowned his triumphs with the 
happy wreath of matrimony. He was fortunate in the selection 
of an amiable and accomplished spouse, the niece of his friend 
Livingston. In her society ever afterward he enjoyed the calm 
tranquillity and happiness which the married state can alone af- 
ford. This wise step appears almost to have been indicated by a 



ROBERT FULTON. 467 

beneficent Providence, for immediately after his marriage he was 
assailed by all sorts of worldly troubles. People, when they found 
that steam navigation was no longer the idle vision of a dreamer, 
but a substantial fact, began to overlook the claims of the man 
who introduced it. They fulminated against the monopoly enjoy- 
ed by Fulton ; grumbled at the accommodations afforded by his 
boats ; complained that the fares were exorbitant ; and, finally, 
maintained that Fulton was not entitled to exclusive privileges, 
because he was not the inventor of the system. The latter was, 
of course, jealous of his rights, and endeavored to protect them to 
the best of his ability. He came in contact with the State of New 
Jersey, the government of which had granted exclusive privileges 
to Fitch. The ferry communication was stopped, and more un- 
popularity was heaped upon our hero. In these days monopolies 
are looked on with proper distrust, and perhaps the people were 
not altogether wrong even then for complaining that the public 
interests were mortgaged to private individuals. But it must be 
remembered that the patent laws were in a very imperfect state, 
and that the only chance an inventor had of remunerating him- 
self was by securing extensive state monopolies. No doubt there 
was a great deal to be said on both sides. If Fitch's invention 
had been less known, Fulton would perhaps have received more 
sympathy. But the long and valuable labors of that ingenious 
man undoubtedly gave him a claim on the public regard, and 
people thought that if any one was entitled to a monopoly, it was 
he, and not Fulton. The state settled the difficulty some time 
afterward by declaring the monopoly unconstitutional. 

Fulton's partner endeavored to get a revision or reversal of 
the Jersey law, and when the day came on for trying the matter 
(January, 1815), the subject of this memoir appeared as a witness. 
The weather was severe, and the Hudson became unnavigable for 
steam-boats. Anxious to return to his family, Fulton exposed 
himself to the bitter blasts in a row-boat, which conveyed him to 
New York. Immediately on his return he was seized with a vio- 
lent fit of illness. From this he partly recovered, but again com- 
mitted an act of indiscretion by exposing himself at the Brook- 
lyn Navy-yard. A relapse was the consequence. He became 
gradually worse, and his shattered system held out no hopes of 
recovery. His death shortly followed, on the 24th of February, 
1815. 



468 



SELF-MADE MEN 



This calamity occasioned a sudden revulsion of public feeling. 
All petty oppositions and jealousies were forgotten, and the high- 
est to the lowest in the land alike vied in paying tribute to the 
memory of a man who had at least shed lustre on the country of 
his birth. 

Fulton was rather above the middle height ; intelligent in coun- 
tenance and conversation ; attached to the home circle, in which 
he was pre-eminently fitted to shine ; familiar with all the topics 
of the day ; well bred and easy in his intercourse with friends, 
and polite, aiFable, and kindly to all. He never entirely aban- 
doned the fine arts. Only a short time before his death he exe- 
cuted oil paintings of his family, and was pleased with the dex- 
terity he still preserved. In closing this memoir, we can not do 
better than quote the just and dispassionate remarks of Dr. Ken- 
wick : " If we consider Fulton as an inventor, it may be difficult 
to say in what exact particular his merits consist. As the blow 
of the mallet, by which the mighty mass of a ship of the line is 
caused to start upon its ways, in the act of launching, is undis- 
tinguishable among the numerous strokes by which that mass is 
gradually raised, so the minute particulars in which his labors 
differ from former abortive attempts may almost escape research ; 
but if we contemplate him in the light of a civil engineer, con- 
fidently building a finished and solid structure upon the incom- 
plete foundation left by others, we must rank him among the first 
of his age, and place him, in the extent of his usefulness to man- 
kind, as second to Watt alone." 




SIR WILLIAM JONES. 

This extraordinary linguist and Oriental scholar was born in 
London in the year 1746. When only three years of age he had the 
misfortune to lose his father, a distinguished mathematician and 
scholar, and was left entirely to the guidance of a fond mother. 
Being a woman of strong mind, she determined that her son should 
have a good education, and devoted all her time, energies, and 
means to the accomplishment of this object. The boy early dis- 
played an acuteness uncommon in one of his age ; and to his ques- 
tionings the mother invariably replied, Read, and you will know. 
To this admonition the great scholar admitted that he was mainly 
indebted for his subsequent attainments. When only seven years 
of age young William was placed at the celebrated school at Har- 
row, being accompanied there by his mother, who took a small 
place in the village in order that she might minister to his wants, 
and direct his mind as far as lay in her power. Under the rou- 
tine of the school his precocity disappeared, and for two years he 
was more remarkable for diligence than quickness. In his ninth 
year he met with an accident by which his thigh bone was broken. 



470 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



He was unable to attend school for a year, but his mother availed 
herself of the opportunity to initiate him into the glorious field of 
English literature, and he became acquainted with some of the 
best poets. On returning to school he was put into the same 
class which he had left, but found, to his dismay, that he was far 
behind his old classmates. What contributed to his pain, even 
more than this knowledge, was the fact that even the master mis- 
took his necessary retrogression for dullness or laziness, and threat- 
ened to punish him, the ferrule being considered an excellent stim- 
ulant to mental activity in those days. The threat had no effect 
on poor young Jones ; but his pride was touched, and he made up 
his mind that he would overtake his classmates. By hard study, 
he accomplished his purpose and took his place at the head of the 
class, gained the prize offered in every department, and carried 
his proficiency much beyond what was required of boys in his 
form. In his twelfth year he entered the upper school, and soon 
after astonished teacher, scholars, and every body else by a re- 
markable display of memory. Theatrical representations took 
place among the scholars, and on one occasion it was determined 
to give Shakspeare's " Tempest." Unfortunately, there was not a 
copy to be had. To supply the deficiency, young Jones wrote it 
out from memory with sufficient correctness to enable the boys to 
act it with pleasure to themselves. About the same time he be- 
gan the study of Greek, and prosecuted his Latin with more zeal 
than ever. He conquered many of the difficulties of Latin pros- 
ody before his teachers and schoolmates were aware that he had 
thought of the subject, and so with many other subjects. During 
the vacation he found time to perfect himself in French, and to 
study Italian and arithmetic. He also learned something of Ara- 
bic, and enough of Hebrew to enable him to read some of the 
Psalms in the original. He was now in his thirteenth year, and 
his inclination to study at this period was so earnest that it was 
thought proper to check it, lest it might injure his health. His 
attendance at school was therefore interdicted, and for a time he 
was prohibited all kind of study. 

At the age of seventeen it was decided that he should go to 
one of the Universities, and in the spring of 1764 he was entered 
for University College, Oxford. It is characteristic of his ele- 
vated temperament that he was disappointed with the course of 
instruction provided here. He was astonished to find that he 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 471 

could not receive the assistance he anticipated, and that the pro- 
fessors and tutors were not prepared for giant strides. He con- 
ceived very bitter sentiments against the establishment, unmindful 
apparently of the fact that it was intended for the average capaci- 
ties of students, and not for the unusual ones of young men like 
Jones. In later days he modified the hasty impression of his youth. 
A testimony to Ins scholarship was soon given by his being elected 
one of the four scholars on the foundation of Sir Simon Bennett. 
His love for Oriental literature began to manifest itself, and he 
commenced studying Arabic from a native of Aleppo whom he 
discovered in the streets of London and transported to Oxford. 
From this individual he obtained a fluent knowledge of the vul- 
gar Arabic. He then studied Persian. Nor did he, in the mean 
time, neglect his old friends, the Greeks and Latins. The Greek 
poets and historians, and especially the writings of Plato, he care- 
fully perused. With the Italian, Spanish, and Portuguese, he 
had become so familiar that he could read their best authors with 
ease. While following these multitudinous studies, he did not 
neglect the requirements of the body. He knew that a healthy 
mind could only be secured by a healthy body, and never neglect- 
ed to take a systematic course of exercise in connection with his 
studies. In this way he was able to preserve a high tone of 
health, and, " with the fortune of a peasant, to give himself the ed- 
ucation of a prince." Without these precautions it would have 
been impossible for a feeble constitution to resist the intense labor 
and application imposed on it. 

In the summer of 1766 he was unexpectedly elected to a fel- 
lowship at Oxford. The appointment was very acceptable in 
many ways. In the first place, it was a recognition of his attain- 
ments, and, in the second, it furnished him with an income, with 
which he might, if he felt so disposed, pursue his studies to any 
extent he pleased, and remain within the classic precincts of the 
University city. He had felt the want of money so much pre- 
vious to this event, that in the preceding year he had accepted 
an invitation to become the private tutor of Lord Althorpe (aft- 
erward Earl Spencer). In the family of this nobleman he passed 
some years, and appears to have been treated with kindness and 
consideration. In 1767 he accompanied his lordship on a tour 
of the Continent, and availed himself of the opportunity of learn- 
ing German. On his return he devoted himself largely to the 



472 SELF-MADE MEN. 

preparation of his " Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry" — a learned 
work which he had in progress — and also found time to learn the 
Chinese. 

In 1768, the King of Denmark was on a visit to England, and 
brought with him an Eastern manuscript containing the life of 
Nadir Shah. This manuscript had puzzled the savans of the Con- 
tinent, and he brought it to England, hoping that Jones would 
undertake to translate it into French. As might be expected, Mr. 
Jones declined ; but the king pressed his request so earnestly that 
he was afraid of being misunderstood if he refused any longer. 
He performed the task, and in less than a year laid the work be- 
fore his majesty — the work of a young man of twenty-four years 
of age, critically exact in two totally opposite languages. 

During the performance of this very laborious undertaking, 
which, it is unnecessary to say, required the greatest concentra- 
tion of his faculties, he was not unmindful of his invariable rule 
of preserving his physical health. At various times, when he was 
pursuing a study with more than ordinary devotion, he took les- 
sons in horsemanship, fencing, etc., in order to utterly relax his 
mind at certain periods of the day. While applying himself to 
the King of Denmark's serious task, he found time to study mu- 
sic, a study which, be it observed, should belong more especially 
to literary men, relieving as it does the pressure of severer studies 
with one which is at once delicious and refreshing. He went into 
society, also, and made the acquaintance of many eminent men. 

During the summer of 1769 he accompanied his pupil to Har- 
row, and left him there in charge of his old preceptors. During 
his temporary stay he completed a Persian grammar, and com- 
menced a Persian dictionary. His mind, too, became seriously 
directed toward the truths of Christianity, and he resolved, for 
his own satisfaction, to peruse carefully the Scriptures in the orig- 
inal. The result was transcribed on the fly-leaf of his own Bible, 
and ran as follows : " I have carefully and regularly perused these 
Holy Scriptures, and am of opinion that the volume, independ- 
ently of its divine origin, contains more sublimity, purer morality, 
more important history, and finer strains of eloquence, than can 
be collected from all other books, in whatever language they may 
have been written." i 

After his return from Harrow he determined to commence the 
study of the law, with the view of following it as a profession. 



SIR WILLIAM JONES, 473 

He did not at first think it necessary to forsake entirely his Ori- 
ental pursuits, nor would it have been possible for him to do so 
in a moment. Literature (especially that of Eastern countries) 
had become a part of his life. Still, he was capable of devoting 
himself with great assiduity to the study of jurisprudence. "I 
have just begun," he writes, " to contemplate the stately edifice 
of the laws of England, 'The gathered wisdom of a thousand 
years,' if you will allow me to parody a line of Pope. I do not 
see why the study of the law is called dry and unpleasant ; and I 
very much suspect that it seems so to those only who would 
think any study unpleasant which requires great application of 
the mind and exertion of the memory. * * * I have opened two 
commonplace books, the one of the law, the other of oratory, 
which is surely too much neglected by our modern speakers. * * * 
But I must lay aside my studies for about six weeks, while I am 
printing my grammar, from which a good deal is expected, and 
which I must endeavor to make as perfect as a human work can 
be. When that is finished, I shall attend the Court of King's 
Bench very constantly." 

Honors began to reward the industrious scholar. In 1772 Mr. 
Jones was elected Fellow of the Royal Society, and, two years 
later, published his Commentaries on Asiatic Poetry. They had 
been finished for some years, but he delayed the printing, in or- 
der to submit them to the criticism of scholars. They were writ- 
ten in Latin, and commanded the attention of savans throughout 
the world. In 1778 he published a translation of a part of the 
orations of Isseus. During all this period he pursued the study 
of the law with his usual avidity. 

In 1780 he lost his mother, a calamity which fell heavily on 
him, but which was not unexpected. That estimable woman had 
lived to see her proudest hopes realized, and left the world with 
the conviction that her son would be, if he was not already, the 
most distinguished man of the century. The event seems to have 
awakened thoughts in the mind of Jones which had heretofore 
been crowded out by the hurry and excitement of continual study, 
namely, that there was a limit to his own life. The apprehension 
that he might die imperfect in some matters which afforded him 
great mortal interest nerved him with new determination. He 
now laid down a plan for his future studies. The memorandum 
is in his own handwriting, and reads as follows : 




474 SELF-MADE MEN. 

" Resolved, to learn no more rudiments of any kind, but to per- 
fect myself in, first, twelve languages, as the means of acquiring 
accurate knowledge of the 

I. History of, 1. Man ; 2. Nature. 

II. Arts: 1. Ehetoric; 2. Poetry; 3. Painting; 4. Music. 
III. Sciences: 1. Law; 2. Mathematics; 3. Dialectics. 
The twelve languages are Greek, Latin, Italian, French, Span- 
ish, Portuguese, Hebrew, Arabic, Persian, Turkish, German, En- 
glish. 1780." 

In March, 1783, Mr. Jones was appointed Judge of the Supreme 
Court of- Judicature at Fort William, in Bengal, and at the same 
time received the honor of knighthood. Being thus rendered 
entirely independent in his means (the appointment was for life), 
he gratified the warm ambition of his manhood, and married the 
beautiful and accomplished daughter of the Bishop of St. Asaph. 
Immediately after the nuptial tour he embarked for India, and 
bade farewell to the land of his birth, a land which he was des- 
tined never to see again. He was now in his thirty-seventh year, 
full of health and strength, and bounding with hope of future dis- 
tinction and attainments. On the voyage he amused himself by 
drawing up a scheme of what he should do during his residency 
in India. The list is curious, and is headed 

" Objects of Inquiry during my residence in Asia: 

1. The Laws of the Hindoos and Mohammedans. 

2. The History of the Ancient World. 

3. Proofs and Illustrations of Scripture. 

4. Traditions concerning the Deluge, etc. 

5. Modern Politics and Geography of Hindostan. 

6. Best mode of governing Bengal. 

7. Arithmetic and Geometry, and mixed Sciences of the 

Asiatics. 

8. Medicine, Chemistry, Surgery, and Anatomy of the In- 

dians. 

9. Natural productions of India. 

1 0. Poetry, Rhetoric, and Morality of Asia. 

1 1 . Music of the Eastern Nations. 

12. The Ski-King, or 300 Chinese Odes. 

13. The best accounts of Thibet and Cashmir. 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 475 

14. Trade, Manufactures, Agriculture, and Commerce of India. 

15. Mogul Constitution, contained in the Defteri, Alemghiri, 

and Agein Acbari. 

16. Mahratta Constitution. 

To print and publish the Gospel of St. Luke in Arabic. 
To publish Law Tracts in Persian or Arabic. 
To print and publish the Psalms of David in Persian verse. 
To compose, if God grant me life, 

1. Elements of the Laws of England. 

Model : The Essay on Bailment — Aristotle. 

2. The History of the American War. 

Model : Thucydides and Polybius. 

3. Britain Discovered, an heroic Poem on the Constitution of 

England. Machinery. Hindoo Gods. 
Model; Homer. 

4. Speeches, Political and Forensic. 

Model: Demosthenes. 

5. Dialogues, Philosophical and Historical. 

Model : Plato. 

6. Letters. 

Model : Demosthenes and Plato. 
"12th July, 1783, Crocodile Frigate." 

Sir William Jones reached Calcutta in safety, and immediately 
entered upon the discharge of his judicial duties. He was warmly 
received by all classes of the community, his reputation having 
preceded him. The highest expectations were formed of his ad- 
ministration, and his opening charge to the grand jury more than 
sustained the good opinion which prevailed. As soon as his ju- 
dicial duties allowed him, he turned his attention to the objects 
above enumerated, and devised a plan of a society for carrying on 
researches in a more thorough way than could be expected from 
an individual. The presidency of this society was offered to 
Warren Hastings, who at that time was Governor General of 
India ; but that celebrated man declined the honor, and Sir Wil- 
liam Jones was elected to the office. He immediately commenced 
the study of the Sanscrit, both that he might better fulfill his 
duties as president, and still more that he might be able to judge 
more accurately and independently of the spirit of Hindoo law. 



47(5 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



While at Calcutta, the attraction of his conversation drew 
around him so many friends that his hours of study were much 
encroached upon. He therefore chose a country residence, a 
few miles from the city, where he might receive less interruption 
and enjoy better health. The duties of the court, however, fre- 
quently called him to town, and his devotion was so great that, 
even when he felt his health declining, he refused to relax in his 
attendance. " How long my health will continue in this town," 
he writes to a friend, "with constant attendance in court every 
morning, and the irksome business of justice of peace in the after- 
noon, I can not foresee. If temperance and composure of mind 
will avail, I shall be well ; but I would rather be a valetudinarian 
all my life than leave unexplored the Sanscrit mine which I have 
just opened." In another letter he gives us an insight into his 
occupations. " By rising before the sun, I allot an hour every day 
to Sanscrit, and am charmed with knowing so beautiful a sister 
of Latin and Greek." It was then his custom to walk to town, 
arriving there before the sun had gained much ascendency, and 
remaining until evening, when he walked home again. " It rarely 
happens," he says, " that favorite studies are closely connected 
with the strict discharge of our duty, as mine happily are : even 
in this cottage, I am assisting the court by studying the Arabic and 
Sanscrit, and have now rendered it an impossibility for the Mo- 
hammedan or Hindoo lawyers to impose upon us with erroneous 
opinions." It was one of his favorite projects to make a complete 
digest of Hindoo and Mohammedan laws, after the model of the 
Pandects of Justinian. The importance of this was evident from 
the fact that the Hindoo and Mohammedan laws were written, for 
the most part, in Sanscrit and Arabic. " My experience justifies 
me in declaring," he says, " that I could not, with an easy con- 
science, concur in a decision merely on the opinion of native law- 
yers in any cause in which they could have the remotest interest 
in misleading the court ; nor, how vigilant soever we might be, 
would it be very difficult for them to mislead us ; for a single 
obscure text, explained by themselves, might be quoted as express 
authority, though, perhaps, in the very book from which it was 
selected, it might be differently explained, or introduced only for 
the purpose of being exploded." In the execution of this great proj- 
ect he enlisted the sympathies and assistance of Lord Cornwallis, 
the new governor general, who placed all the facilities of the state 



SIR WILLIAM JONES. 477 

at his disposal, and thus enabled Jones to select as his assistants 
the most learned natives of the district. 

In the beginning of 1794 he published a translation of the or- 
dinances of Menu, an extremely curious work, illustrating the 
manners and customs of a very ancient people, and their peculiar 
religious ceremonies, to which they have adhered down to the 
present time. During all this time Sir William enjoyed good 
health, and frequently boasted of having conquered the climate ; 
but his lady suffered severely from the scorching heat, and became 
so much debilitated that Sir William was alarmed, and induced 
her to return to England. She took her departure in a sailing 
vessel, and bade farewell to a husband whom she was doomed 
never to see again. Four months later, and Sir William was at- 
tacked with what appeared to be the ague, arising, as he imag- 
ined, from indiscreet exposure to the night air. Medical assist- 
ance was called in, and the disease was pronounced to be inflam- 
mation of the liver — the scourge of British India. The symp- 
toms became more aggravated, and, in spite of every attention, 
the patient sunk on the seventh day. Sir William was in the 
forty-seventh year of his age. Few men have died so universally 
respected. His amiable disposition, added to his great acquire- 
ments in almost every department of human knowledge, endeared 
him to all classes of people. There is no doubt that his zeal in 
the discharge of his duties ("I never was happy," he wrote, "till 
I was settled in India") predisposed his constitution to the attack 
which terminated his life. His acquaintance with the history, 
philosophy, laws, religion, science, and manners of nations, was 
most extensive and profound. As a linguist, he has scarcely, if 
ever, been surpassed ; he had made himself acquainted with no 
fewer than twenty-eight different languages, and was studying the 
grammars of several of the Oriental dialects up to within a week 
of his lamented death. In accordance with a determination to 
which we have already referred, he perfected himself in Greek, 
Latin, Italian, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Hebrew, Arabic, 
Persian, Turkish, German, and English ; made himself master of 
Sanscrit, and less completely of Hindostanee and Bengalee, and 
also of the dialects called the Tibetian, the Pali, the Phalavi, and 
the Deri. The other languages which he studied more or less 
completely were the Chinese, Russian, Runic, Syriac, Ethiopic, 
Coptic. Dutch. Swedish, and Welsh. 



i 



478 SELF-MADE MEN. 

It was by the observance of a few simple maxims that Sir Wil- 
liam Jones was able to accomplish what he did. One of these 
was, never to neglect an opportunity of improvement ; another 
was, that whatever had been attained was attainable by him, 
and that therefore the real or supposed difficulties of any pursuit 
formed no reason why he should not engage in it. " It was also," 
says Lord Teignmouth, " a fixed principle with him, from which 
he never voluntarily deviated, not to be deterred by any difficult- 
ies which were surmountable from prosecuting to a successful 
termination what he had once deliberately undertaken." Like 
all great workers, Jones was scrupulously methodical, and had a 
particular time for every occupation, thus avoiding interruption 
and confusion. 

The best monument of his fame was raised by his widow, who 
published a splendid edition of his works in 6 vols, quarto, 1799, 
and also, at her own expense, placed a fine marble statue to his 
memory, executed by Flaxman, in the ante-chamber of Universi- 
ty College, Oxford. 




CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 



This redoubtable hero was born at Willoughby, in Lincoln- 
shire, in the year 1579. He was descended, he says in his auto- 
biography, from the family of the ancient Smiths of Crudley, in 
Lancashire, on the father's side, and from the Rickards, of Great 
Heck, in Yorkshire, on the mother's. At an early age, his pa- 
rents having died, he was placed under the care of guardians, but 
these unfaithful stewards ill-treated the youth, squandered his 
property, and otherwise behaved in a manner highly offensive to 
his sensitive nature. In those days, young people considered it 
an excellent plan to run away, if all things were not quite com- 
fortable at home. There were no electric telegraphs, rail-roads, or 
steam-boats to dart after the truant and bring him back again. 
If he had a stout heart, a keen wit, or a sharp sword, it was 
probable that he would make a way for himself in the world, and 
so utterly escape from all his former grievances. Smith's dispo- 
sition became known to his guardians, and, to punish it, they sent 
him as an apprentice to a merchant at Lynn. The drudgery of 
a counting-house was the last thing 1 in the world that could suit 



480 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



his ardent nature. He gave it a very brief trial, and then, bor- 
rowiug all the money he could (amounting to about ten shillings), 
he started for the Continent, in the company of Mr. Peregrine 
Bertz. He does not appear to have been a great favorite with 
this gentleman, and in a short time was dismissed from his train. 
Not in the slightest degree discouraged by this untoward event, 
young Smith determined to go in search of his own fortunes. He 
repaired, accordingly, to the Low Countries, where a plentiful dish 
of hard fighting was always supplied to the hungry visitor. Here 
he baptized his infant weapon, and performed prodigies of valor 
during four long but exciting years of warfare. At length, be- 
coming weary of the struggle, he took his leave, and proceeded to 
Scotland, where, after a slight touch of shipwreck, he arrived in 
safety. The hospitality of the Scotch was lavished on the hero, 
but the court of King James entirely overlooked his existence. 
Slightly in disgust, therefore, he turned his back on the Scottish 
metropolis, and once more returned to Willoughby, in Lincoln- 
shire. The good folks made a lion of him at first, and bored him 
with their invitations and attentions, " in which," he says, " he 
took small delight." To rid himself of these pests, he retired 
from the town, and established himself in an open field a good way 
from it. Here, beside a gay little rivulet, he built himself a pa- 
vilion of boughs, and, dispensing with all the luxuries of civiliza- 
tion, devoted himself to the study of war and morals. Concern- 
ing the latter he appeared to have somewhat loose notions. He 
looked upon the earth as a large domain, bestowed indifferently 
upon all Adam's children, who might, without blame, make use 
freely of what they found in their way. Practically applied, this 
theory resulted in a pastime which the law frowns at, under the 
name of poaching. In other words, he was in the habit of re- 
plenishing his scanty board with the prime venison and plump 
pheasants of his neighbors. He did not exactly do it himself. 
He had a worthy retainer who performed the important functions 
of the commissariat department, while the virtuous Smith im- 
proved himself in the pages of Machiavelli and Marcus Aurelius. 
The only amusement he took was on horseback, either hunting, 
or tilting with the lance, and acquiring a dexterity with that 
weapon for which he was afterward renowned. Such a charac- 
ter in a quiet agricultural district became necessarily an object 
of extreme curiosity. Every one talked about the chivalric her- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 481 

mit, and not a few fair damsels sighed for the possession of such 
a strange, fascinating knight, who seemed to live in a romance 
world of his own, with which this coarser firmament had no sort 
of connection. There were others, too, who became interested 
in his strange life, especially one — an Italian gentleman — of the 
name of Peodoro Polaloga, a superb horseman, and rider to the 
Earl of Lincoln. Smith derived so much satisfaction from this 
gentleman's society, that he was, after a time, persuaded to aban- 
don his pavilion of boughs, and once more return to the world. 

There is no doubt that peace was a very objectionable state of 
things to Smith, and that he infinitely preferred cutting throats 
wherever and whenever that relaxation could be enjoyed. At 
that time the Turks were ravaging Hungary, and pitching into 
the Christian armies with unusual ferocity. Smith, who, to use 
a vulgar expression, was spoiling for a fight, determined to join 
the Christians, and show the infidels what hard fighting really 
meant. With this object in view, he attired himself in great splen- 
dor, and conveyed himself and arms on board ship. The attract- 
iveness of his appearance excited the cupidity of some of the 
rogues on board, who, seeing that he was as innocent as a child 
of all matters relating to the world, made up their minds to rob 
him. One of the band made approaches to Smith, pretending to 
be a nobleman of high degree, while three of his confederates were 
in attendance in the capacity of servants. A sort of intimacy 
sprung up between them ; Smith divulged his plans for the future, 
and the man of birth condescendingly undertook to introduce him 
to a French duchess, "whose husband," he said, "was commander 
for the emperor in Hungary." The prospect of such desirable 
patronage was too much for our guileless hero. Gorgeous visions 
of splendid military success and advancement sprang from his fer- 
vid mind, and gave lustre to his manly eye. At length the ves- 
sel arrived in the roads of St. Valery-sur-Somme. Here the pre- 
tended nobleman undertook to convey Smith's baggage ashore, 
and, with the assistance of the captain, who was in league with 
the robbers, did so in the most effectual manner. It was landed 
with such safety that poor deluded Smith never saw it again. He 
was reduced to such straits by this misfortune, that he had to sell 
his cloak in order to proceed on his journey. One of the passen- 
gers on board — a soldier — did all he could to mitigate the an- 
noyance, and even accompanied Smith to Mortain, where the rob- 

X 



482 SELF-MADE MEN. 

bers (who resorted to the profession as a kind of elegant diver- 
sion) resided. But in those days of tardy justice, the words of 
an injured foreigner were not listened to with eager attention. 
The villains escaped. With such funds as he could now com- 
mand, our hero turned once more toward the sea-coast, and trav- 
eled from port to port, with the hope of finding a ship to convey 
him to his destination. It was not so easy in those days, and his 
slender means were soon exhausted; weariness, hunger, and heart- 
sickness overtook him ; he dropped from exhaustion, and thought, 
as you or I would have done, of the gay, glad things at home, which 
he would never, never see again. Happily, a rich farmer found 
him as he lay by the road side, and bore him tenderly to his house, 
where he was properly cared for, and sent on his journey again 
with renewed vigor. 

Shortly after this he came across one of the four villains who 
had robbed him, and a very quiet and earnest fight immediately 
ensued. It is to be hoped the poor wretch had said his pray- 
ers, for his black soul took flight that day through a convenient 
aperture made for the purpose by our hero. Smith now traveled 
through the western and southern provinces of France, visited the 
kingdoms of Bearne and Navarre, and at length arrived at Mar- 
seilles, where he embarked for Italy. The passengers being most- 
ly bigoted Catholics, and Smith, on the other hand, being a tre- 
mendous Protestant, fierce disputes immediately ensued, and, 
when a terrific storm arose, all the black-coated priests declared 
that it was caused entirely by Smith's presence on board, and so, 
to put a stop to it, they threw him overboard. Fortunately, he 
had learned the art of swimming, and managed to buffet his way 
to the lonely shore of an uninhabited island, where, as good luck 
would have it, a vessel lay at anchor waiting for the storm to 
abate. The captain turned out to be a friend of some of Smith's 
acquaintances, and, when he heard his story, behaved in the most 
handsome manner. But the captain was afflicted with the moral 
looseness of the times, and erred on the side of piracy. During 
the voyage they came across several vessels which they fought 
and plundered in a perfectly systematic manner. Smith behaved 
with such gallantry that, when he reached the Roads of Antibes, 
he found himself the master of a good deal of ready cash — 500 
zechins, and of a box containing as many more — which, he ob- 
serves rather brazenly, " God sent him." Feeling now complete- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 483 

ly at his ease, he made the tour of Italy, and, having gratified his 
curiosity in that land of romance, started on his way once more, 
and in due time joined the army of Ferdinand, Arch-duke of Aus- 
tria, afterward Emperor of Germany. He soon distinguished him- 
self by great personal bravery, and by the exercise of many ingen- 
ious military tactics, which caused him to be promoted to the rank 
of captain. But he appears never to have had what he considered 
a fair share of fighting, although he took an active part in all the 
battles, and perforated Paynim bodies with the heartiest of wills 
and the sharpest of weapons. To satisfy his appetite in this re- 
spect, he cheerfully accepted any private invitations to fight. On 
one occasion, a Turkish officer — desirous, as he said, of amusing 
the ladies — solicited some Christian officer, of equal rank, to en- 
gage with him in a passage of arms before Regal. Lots were cast, 
and Smith won the privilege. He mounted his war-horse with 
great glee, and, lance in hand, started for the ground. " The ram- 
parts of Regal," he says, " were lined with ladies, while the Chris- 
tian host stood in battalions on the plain, to observe the conduct of 
their own champion." The combat was of short duration. Smith 
rushed at the Osmanli, and pierced him through the head with his 
lance, and then descending, cut off the poor fellow's damaged mem- 
ber, and bore it in triumph to his camp. The Osmanlis were not 
satisfied with this. On the following day they sent a special 
challenge to Smith, staking the head, horse, and armor of an- 
other champion against his prowess. Smith was quite willing to 
accommodate the Osmanlis. They met, and at the first charge 
shivered their lances without doing any particular damage. Pis- 
tols were then drawn, and finally a hand-to-hand struggle ensued, 
both grappling fiercely on the ground. When Smith got up, he 
was the possessor of a bleeding head, a horse, and a suit of ar- 
mor. Imagining that the Osmanlis might not yet be thoroughly 
happy in their mind, and anxious to accommodate them in every 
reasonable way, he now sent a challenge to Regal, expressing his 
willingness to restore the two heads he had in his possession, pro- 
vided they would send some one who would make the number 
three, by adding that of the challenger. A redoubtable Osmanli, 
of the name of Bonamalgro (at least so Smith calls him), took up 
the gage thus thrown down, and promised to entertain Smith with 
pistol, battle-axe, and sword, but not with the lance, of which he 
appears to have had a wholesome distrust. They met with the 



484 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



proposed conveniences; pistols were discharged without effect, 
and they began chopping each other with their battle-axes. It 
was a tough fight, and at one moment, when Smith lost his weap- 
on, appeared to be entirely in the hands of the Turk. A shout 
was raised from the ramparts of Regal, and in both armies Smith 
was looked upon as a lost hero. But dexterously avoiding the 
heavy blow aimed at his skull, and drawing his sword, he soon 
turned the tables on his adversary, and rolled him in the dust, 
with a fatal thrust through a vital part. For these brilliant ex- 
ploits Smith was suitably honored by his comrades, and the gen- 
eral embraced him, and presented him with a horse superbly ca- 
parisoned, and a cimeter and belt worth three hundred ducats ; 
he was promoted, also, to the rank of major. In acknowledg- 
ment of his services, the Duke of Transylvania gave him per- 
mission to wear three Turks' heads quartered on his shield, and 
swore ever after to bear them in his own colors. In addition to 
this, he bestowed on him his portrait set in gold, and a pension 
for life of 300 ducats per year. The coat of arms (with the mot- 
to, "Vineere est vivere") was afterward admitted, and recorded 
in the English College of Heralds. 

The good fortune which had tarried with him such an un- 
usual time now took wings. During one of the many engage- 
ments in which he had part, he was wounded, and lay stretched 
on the field of battle to all appearances a corpse. The ghouls 
who go over the battle-field at night to plunder the dead came 
across him in this situation, and perceiving, by the elegance and 
splendor of his armor, that he was a man of distinction, spared 
his life in the expectation of a heavy ransom. As this did not 
come, our wounded hero was sold for a slave, and, with many oth- 
er captives, marched off to Adrianople. We have not space to 
follow his adventures while in this cruel position ; suffice it that 
he succeeded in getting up a love affair with a lady of quality, 
for which he was removed to a distant settlement, and subjected 
to great indignities and hardships by his master, the lady's broth- 
er. He put a stop to these in a characteristic way, and made his 
escape into Southern Russia, on his way back to the field of bat- 
tle. He was received with great hospitality, and made a sort of 
triumphal progress through Hungary and Bohemia, until he fell 
in with his distinguished patron, the Duke Sigismund, who gen- 
erously bestowed on him 1500 ducats in gold, and a military di- 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 485 

ploma stating his rank and services. Smith now traveled through 
Germany, France, and Spain. He then crossed over into Mo- 
rocco (where there was a little fighting going on), but, finding noth- 
ing worthy of his steel, embarked for his native land. On the voy- 
age home the ship was attacked by two Spanish men-of-war, and 
a desperate fight took place, but it escaped in a very glorious man- 
ner, and our hero was once more permitted to tread the green- 
sward of his fatherland. 

It is probable that Captain John Smith was a great lion, and 
that for some time he did nothing but travel from one hospitable 
board to another. We have no record of his doings. Evidently 
he looked on the triumphs of peace as unworthy of chronicling. 
It is only when fresh adventures are afoot that he again appears 
prominently before the public. About the year 1604 every one 
was wild with the marvelous discoveries in the Western World. 
All the gay, roving spirits of the day were eager for an opportu- 
nity to cross the Atlantic and participate in the huge gold mines 
and diamond beds which were supposed to exist there. The mys- 
tery which shrouded that distant land was sufficient to captivate 
the imagination of Captain John Smith. The rest was accom- 
plished by Captain Bartholomew Gosnold, whose acquaintance he 
had made, and who at this time was on the point of starting for 
Virginia with a large number of colonists. Smith threw himself 
into the enterprise with all his accustomed ardor, and any objec- 
tions that were urged by capitalists to repeating an experiment 
already unsuccessfully attempted were demolished by his triumph- 
ant eloquence.* At length every thing was arranged for starting. 
Letters patent were granted by the king, who, in order to cause 
as much confusion as his stupid brain could devise, and to exer- 
cise a little authority, inclosed a list of the names of the future 
governors of the colony in a box, the seals of which were not to 
be broken till the arrival of the whole party in Virginia. On the 
19th of December, 1606, the vessel set sail, and, after many ad- 
ventures and perilous delays, arrived at the mouth of Chesapeake 
Bay on the 26th of April, 1607. Upon the first land they made 
they bestowed, in honor of the Prince of Wales, the name of Cape 
Henry. Here thirty of the colonists disembarked, and, while 
amusing themselves with local explorations, were set upon by a 
l>arty of five Indians, who inflicted dangerous wounds on two of 
their number, and taught them to proceed with greater caution. . 



486 SELF-MADE MEN. 

King James's mysterious box was duly opened, and they learned 
that the council — invested with power to elect presidents for a 
year — was to consist of Bartholomew Gosnold, Captain John 
Smith, Edward Wingfield, Christopher Newport, John Ratcliffe, 
John Martin, and George Kendall. Affairs of importance were 
to be examined by a jury, but determined by the decision of a 
majority of the council, in which the president had two votes. 
On the 13 th of May following the colonists fixed on a site for 
their city, and called it Jamestown. The members of the council 
were duly sworn, and Mr. Wingfield elected the first president. 
Although Smith was expressly mentioned in the royal charter as 
one of the council, he was excluded by the other members of that 
body. It is probable that his talents and popularity were viewed 
with distrust and jealousy. Whatever the cause, Smith consider- 
ed it unworthy of notice. The stern work of raising a city in the 
forest now commenced. The industrial music of the hammer, 
the anvil, and the saw was heard from morning till night. Smith 
and Newport, with twenty others, were dispatched to discover the 
source of the river on the banks of which they had commenced 
building. They proceeded up the river six days, passing many 
native villages, until they arrived at the falls. Here they visited 
the renowned chief Powhatan, with whom they exchanged civili- 
ties and promises of friendship. Their farther progress being in- 
terrupted by the rapids, they put about and prepared to return 
home. The behavior of the natives was kind and hospitable un- 
til they had got within twenty miles of Jamestown : their con- 
duct then began to excite suspicion. On returning to the colony 
the reason became apparent. An attack had been made on the 
town, and, owing to the defenseless state of the place, through 
the culpable negligence of Governor Wingfield, the natives had 
gained an advantage, and now evidently looked forward to the 
total extermination of the whites. Made wiser by experience, the 
governor now fortified the place, and, a few days after the return 
of Smith, the savages sued for peace. 

The ships which had brought out the colonists soon weighed 
anchor, and sailed for home, leaving the little band to shift for 
themselves as best they could. The white streak of their wakes 
had scarcely disappeared from the waters when a terrible sickness 
broke out among the settlers, so that very few could walk or stand. 
Scarcity of provisions contributed largely to the sufferings of the 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 487 

poor creatures. The common food was scarcely fit for human 
beings to eat, and the rations were much too scanty. To add to 
their troubles and heighten the horrors of famine, it was discovered 
that the governor was a greedy hog, and had laid up stores of nice 
things for himself, while his poor companions were starving and 
rotting around him. One half of the colonists died in this miser- 
able way, and the remainder, like sensible men, deposed the bad 
governor, and elected Captain John RatclifFe in his stead. Noth- 
ing could be more desperate than the condition of the small gar- 
rison. Their provisions were exhausted ; the fisheries yielded but 
a small and uncertain supply, and they were in momentary expect- 
ation of an attack from the hostile Indians in the vicinity. The 
latter apprehension, however, was soon removed, for the savages 
took pity on their wretchedness, and, instead of attacking, actu- 
ally brought them liberal supplies of fruits, vegetables, and game. 
The new governor, however, did not turn out much better than 
his predecessor. He lacked the force of character and strength 
of judgment essential to such a crisis. Smith was pre-eminently 
endowed with these qualities, and it was but natural, therefore, 
that the harassed and desponding settlers should look to him as 
their only hope. He commenced setting things to rights with 
characteristic energy. By his own industry he stimulated the 
industry of others, and by pointing out what had to be done in a 
quiet, solicitous way, he got it done expeditiously and well. In 
a short time he had procured lodgings for every one but himself. 
The most knotty question to be solved was how to procure pro- 
visions sufficient to hold out until the harvesting time came round 
again. He determined to go on a trading excursion, and endeavor 
to procure a supply from the Indians. Accordingly, he fitted out 
the shallop, manned it with all the spare hands he could muster, 
and dropped down the river. The natives were well informed of 
the abject state of the settlement, and, when Smith spoke about 
barter, they only laughed at him, evidently rejoiced at the pros- 
pect of a speedy destruction of the whites. Smith was not the 
right kind of person to laugh at with impunity, and the moment 
he found that all fair means were of no avail, he changed his 
tactics. The word was given to fire, and then, suddenly running 
the boat ashore, the natives were so frightened and astonished 
that they scampered away in all directions. This was precisely 
what Smith wanted. Without a moment's delay, he marched 



488 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



straight into their village, and discovered plentiful heaps of corn. 
His companions wanted to help themselves without any kind of 
parleying, but Smith, who looked to the future as well as the 
present, would not consent to the pillage. Presently the Indians, 
to the number of sixty or seventy, painted all sorts of colors, and 
bearing in front their most redoubtable idol, returned to the spot, 
and boldly attacked the English. A discharge of musketry soon 
taught the poor wretches that their idol was of no avail against 
the white man's gunpowder. A number lay stretched upon the 
ground, and the remainder hastily retreated, leaving their false 
god behind them. Shortly afterward they sent a priest to treat 
with the victors for the restoration of the idol. Smith told them 
that, if six of the tribe would come unarmed, and aid him in load- 
ing his boat, he would not only restore to them their okee, or idol, 
but make them large presents besides of beads, copper, and hatch- 
ets. This was agreed to, and the natives soon returned, bringing 
with them venison, common fowls, turkeys, and bread. 

The success of this first expedition led to several others, in all 
of which Smith's tact, decision, and firmness were eminent. But 
he labored for an improvident set of fellows, who were much too 
willing to depend on his trading voyages, rather than work for 
their own daily bread. Indeed, when we reflect on the many 
vexations that their idleness must have caused our hero, we are 
forced to admire the estimable generosity which actuated him in 
not only working, but exposing himself to danger for their main- 
tenance. One would certainly think that such a capital fellow 
could have no enemies ; but he had, and mean ones too. Fore- 
most among these were Wingfield and Kendall, who had been 
living in disgrace, and watching the growth of Smith's popularity 
with jealous spite. They took advantage of his absence on one 
occasion to conspire with some disorderly malcontents and escape 
to England in the bark, which, by Smith's direction, had been 
fitted up for a trading voyage, to be undertaken the next year. 
They had already, in part, executed their design when Smith re- 
turned, for they were actually on board, and the pinnace was pre- 
paring to descend the stream. Smith brought them to in prompt 
style. He assembled his men on the beach, invited the deserters 
to return to their duty, and, when they refused, gave them a vol- 
ley as a persuader. A brisk action ensued, and it was only when 
Kendall had fallen that the others surrendered. 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 489 

It was Smith's misfortune shortly after this to fall into the 
hands of the Indians. They set upon him unexpectedly, and; 
before he had time to protect himself, wounded him in the thigh 
with an arrow. Notwithstanding this impediment, he made a 
gallant resistance, and would have escaped from their clutches 
but for another accident. In retreating with his face to the foe, 
he backed into a morass, and stuck fast up to the waist in peat. 
None of the Indians dared approach him, even in that helpless 
position, and it was only when he was half dead with cold and 
had thrown away his arms that they drew him out. He was, of 
course, conducted to the chief of the tribe, and, having been con- 
demned to death, was tied to a tree for immediate execution. 
Without losing the slightest particle of his customary self-posses- 
sion, he pulled out a small pocket compass which he happened to 
have with him, and presented the instrument to the chief, accom- 
panied with a speech, which, as it might be his last, he did not 
strive to make particularly short. In return for this, the chief 
released him from the tree, but sent him a prisoner to one of the 
villages. He was to be reserved for a more epicurean death: 
they intended to get him into fine condition, and then eat him ; 
at least so poor Smith imagined, from the profusion of food with 
which he was supplied. He was kept in suspense for a long time, 
but at last, when tolerably plump, they conducted him to the resi- 
dence of the famed Powhatan, who received him with imposing 
ceremony, " seated on a kind of throne, elevated above the floor 
of a large hut, in the midst of which was a fire. He (Powhatan) 
was clothed with a robe of raccoon skins. Two young women, his 
daughters, sat one on his right and the other on his left, and on 
each side of the hut there were two rows of men in front, and the 
same number of women behind. When Smith was brought home, 
they all set. up a great shout." Smith was indulged with another 
feast in the palace of this dusky monarch, but, considering the 
mysterious preparations that were going on, it is scarcely proba- 
ble that he had a very hearty appetite. It became certain that 
his fate was now to be decided, and equally certain that the de- 
cision was against him. The fatal preliminaries were soon ar- 
ranged. A couple of ominous-looking stones were brought in, 
and placed before Powhatan. Upon one of these unpleasant 
pillows Smith was compelled to lay his head. Rascally-looking 
chiefs then approached with heavy clubs raised in the air, ready 

X 2 



490 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



to dash out his brains at the word of command. At this moment 
Pocahontas, the favorite daughter of the great chief, interceded for 
the prostrate prisoner, and begged piteously for his life. Finding 
that Powhatan was inexorable, she determined, with true Indian 
fortitude, to perish herself, rather than give up her point. She 
rushed to the stone, placed her own pretty head upon that of the 
prisoner, and told them that they should kill her before they 
touched him. Moved by this scene, Powhatan, her father, grant- 
ed Smith his pardon, and shortly afterward agreed that he should 
be sent to Jamestown, provided he would give them two great 
guns and a grindstone by way of ransom. The chief was ready 
to bestow on him a large tract of country, and to regard him as 
his son, immediately on receipt of these valuable articles. 

After this romantic incident Smith got on very well with the 
Indians, and was able to procure constant supplies of provisions. 
Pocahontas, his beautiful protectress, paid frequent visits to the 
settlement, and on several occasions, when little difficulties ap- 
peared to be growing up between the king and the settlers, her 
gentle intercession brushed away the angry clouds and restored 
quiet. 

The hungry fellows of the colony had to be fed by hand, like so 
many ravens, and, as the ships from the Old Country did not come 
in with great regularity, they were often reduced to great straits. 
The subject of our memoir was their sole dependence. At the 
proper moment he fitted out the boat, and sailed away into the 
interior in search of provisions, never coming back empty-handed. 
In one of these expeditions he discovered the Bay of Chesapeake, 
and afterward explored it minutely, and constructed a map, which 
was wonderfully accurate, all things considered. Wherever he 
went he was respected and feared by the natives, but, on the other 
hand, the moment his back was turned, the colonists began schem- 
ing and quarreling, and making their wretched lives still more 
miserable. The only creditable thing they did, by way of atone- 
ment, was to elect Captain John Smith their president, in place 
of RatclifFe, who, like his predecessor, turned out an idle, greedy 
fellow. But even this they afterward repented, for Smith, know- 
ing that safety and abundance depended entirely on their own 
exertions, set them all to work, some to collect pitch, tar, and 
soap-ashes, and others to hew timber in the woods. They who 
were discontented, says the quaint historian, drowned the noise of 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 49 1 

every third blow by a curse, which induced the president to make 
a rule against swearing. Every man's oaths tittered during the 
day were to be counted, and for each offense he was to have a 
gallon of water poured down his sleeve. So effectual was this 
punishment, that scarcely a profane expression was heard in a 
week. Notwithstanding all his protestations, constant watchful- 
ness had to be exercised toward Powhatan, who was treacherous, 
and disposed to be revenged on the whites whenever the oppor- 
tunity occurred. The readiest way of doing this was to starve 
them out. Experience had taught him that they were improvi- 
dent, and always in need of corn. He issued orders that none 
should be supplied. Every kind of persuasion was used in vain, 
until at length Captain Smith determined that he should be brought 
to reason in a summary way. Accordingly, with forty-six men 
in the pinnace and two barges, he set out to meet the wily chief. 
Every where they heard warnings of Powhatan's treachery, but 
they went on their way, and, when they came to his village, sent 
him a friendly message. He came in no pleasant mood ; told them 
that they were uninvited ; that his subjects had no corn, and that 
he could give only forty baskets of grain in exchange for forty 
swords. In the end, a collision took place between the English 
and the Indians. The latter endeavored to cut off the former by 
surprise, and were only prevented by the faithful conduct of the 
beautiful Pocahontas, who came and warned them of their danger. 
From Powhatan Smith proceeded to another Indian town, where 
the chief conceived a cunning plot to murder the party. Being 
in one of the native houses, Smith saw a great concourse of sav- 
ages without, and their chief near the door, asking him to come 
forth and receive a present. Such an ambush was a trifle too 
playful for the keen military eye of Smith, and, instead of popping 
into it, he desired his companions to keep careful watch on all the 
entrances. Then, seizing his opportunity, he darted out, caught 
the old chief by the beard, leveled a pistol at his breast, and led 
him trembling into the midst of his assembled tribe. This daring 
act struck terror into the whole multitude. They gave up their 
leader's arms, and cast down their own ; while Smith, still hold- 
ing his captive by the hair, addressed him in a speech, half of 
conciliation, half of threats, which had the desired result, for a 
quantity of provisions were brought, and all parties returned to 
their homes in apparent amity. 



492 SELF-MADE MEN. 

We have not the space to follow Smith in all his bold adven- 
tures, although they are eminently interesting, and characterized 
by the noble bearing, courage, and disinterestedness of his chival- 
ric nature. It must suffice that under his rule the colony became 
as prosperous as it was possible for it to become with such a 
strange population of worthless, ill-tempered, idle fellows. Quan- 
tities of tar, pitch, and soap ashes were collected ; a successful ex- 
periment was made in the manufacture of glass ; twenty new 
houses were built, with a more convenient church ; and nets for 
fishing were manufactured. To defend themselves, the colonists 
also erected two or three wooden forts, or block-houses, and, to 
provide for the next year, planted nearly forty acres with vegeta- 
bles and grain. Altogether the prospects were cheering to every 
one except the London speculators, who, not having received large 
cargoes of virgin gold or bags full of precious stones, were great- 
ly dissatisfied with the way things had been managed. To such 
an extent did they carry their dissatisfaction, that in 1609 they 
obtained a new charter from the king, annulling the former one. 
Immediately afterward they dispatched nine ships, with 500 emi- 
grants, to take possession of the colony, and regulate it according 
to the latest system of colonial wisdom. When the proper offi- 
cers had arrived, Smith made preparations to return to England. 
The magnanimity of his character was illustrated in the cheerful 
assistance he rendered to his successors, many of whom were pig- 
headed and insolent, and very jealous of Smith's popularity. 
Those poor creatures who had worked and suffered in the colony 
were very sorry when they heard that their brave president was 
about to leave them, and they tried all they could to get him to 
stay ; but Smith suffered severely from an accident he had met 
with, occasioned by the explosion of a bag of gunpowder, and felt 
sure that if he did not go back and get good medical advice he 
would infallibly die. So Captain John Smith, after a wonderfully 
active and wonderfully troubled career of more than two years, 
took his departure for the land of his fathers. Immediately aft- 
erward the colony sunk into a state of great confusion ; " large 
parties were cut off by the savages ; a division of authority pro- 
duced entire disorganization ; improvidence wasted the stores 
which had been accumulated, and the settlers fell into the last 
stage of abasement and misery. Within six months after the loss 
of their virtuous president, the number at Jamestown was not 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 493 

more than sixty, including women and children. They had to 
feed on roots, herbs, acorns, walnuts, and berries, with now and 
then a scanty supply of fish. They ate their starch, and at last 
even the skins of their horses. ' Nay, so great,' says the narra- 
tor, ' was our famine, that a salvage we slew and buried, the poor- 
er sort took him up again and ate him, and so did divers one an- 
other, boyled and stewed with roots and herbs. And one among 
the rest did kill his wife, powdered her, and had eaten part of 
her before it was known, for which he was executed, as he well 
deserved. Now, whether she was better roasted, boyled, or car- 
bonadoed, I know not ; but of such a dish as powdered wife I 
never heard.' " Their miseries were fortunately terminated by 
the arrival of Sir Thomas Gates and Sir George Somers, with 150 
men and a quantity of provisions. 

We hear nothing of Captain John Smith for several years after 
his return to England. It is certain that he was much sought 
after by the lion-hunters, and that he became very famous for his 
strange adventures. It is also certain that some of the incidents 
of his strange life were worked into a dramatic form, and repre- 
sented at the theatres, much to the annoyance of our hero. In 
1614 Ave find him once more embarked for the New World, but 
not for Virginia. This time his enterprising spirit sought new 
laurels in the cold and barren ground of New England. There 
were two ships in the expedition, one commanded by himself, and 
the other by Captain Thomas Hunt. On the 30th of April they 
arrived at the coast of Maine, and immediately commenced look- 
ing for mines of gold. As they did not succeed in their search, 
they turned their attention to the next most improbable product 
of the country, and went about in boats to capture whales. Fi- 
nally they abandoned both pursuits, and devoted their attention 
to the catching and curing of codfish. While the crew were thus 
employed, Captain Smith, with eight men in a small boat, sur- 
veyed and examined the whole coast from Penobscot to Cape 
Cod, trafficking with the Indians for furs, and twice fighting with 
them. He constructed a map of the country, and, after six 
months' absence, once more returned to England. In the follow- 
ing year our restless hero embarked once more for the Western 
World, but, when about a hundred and twenty leagues from port, 
he encountered a violent storm, which so shattered his vessel that 
he had to return and procure another one. On the 24th of June, 






494 SELF-MADE MEN. 

1615, he started once more in a small bark of sixty tons, manned 
by thirty men, and carrying with him sixteen settlers. Soon after 
his departure he was chased by an English pirate, but succeeded 
in getting away on friendly terms. Near Fayal he came across 
two French pirates. His crew were panic-stricken, and wanted 
him to surrender ; but he scorned the idea, and told them that he 
would rather blow up the ship than yield while he had any pow- 
der left. So he blazed away with his four little guns, and con- 
trived to make his escape. Near Flores he was chased, and, sad 
to say, overtaken by four French men-of-war. For some strange 
reason Smith was kidnapped, and kept on board the French frig- 
ate while she cruised about snapping up prizes. In the mean 
time the crew of his own vessel put about, and returned to the 
port whence they came. Smith had no opportunity of making 
his escape until one stormy night, while the vessel of his captors 
was lying at anchor in the harbor of Rochelle. When it was 
quite dark he dropped into a boat, and with the fragment of a 
handspike in place of oars, floated away on the fierce waters. A 
strong current carried him out to sea, and all night he was rock- 
ed about in one of the most fearful tempests that had been known 
on that coast for many years. A kind and watchful Providence 
surely shielded him on that sad night, for, when he was car- 
ried in by the morning tide, he discovered that the French ship 
from which he had escaped had been wrecked, and the captain 
and half the crew drowned ; yet his poor little cockle-shell out- 
lived the fury of the elements ! On landing at Rochelle he 
lodged a complaint with the judge of the Admiralty, but without 
any satisfactory-result. Shortly afterward he returned to En- 
gland, and in 1616 published the narrative of his two voyages to 
New England, which he had written, in a great measure, while a 
prisoner on board the French vessel. Although he made many 
efforts to return to the country in which he was so deeply inter- 
ested, and which owed all its prosperity to his presence, and all 
its misfortunes to his absence, he was never able to do so. As a 
speculation, the New World had been ruinous to the capitalists 
who embarked in it, and there was no disposition to risk more. 
The remainder of his life was therefore passed in England, but in 
what way we know not. Mr. Hillard, in his Memoir, say's, " The 
death of Captain Smith occurred in 1631, at London, in the fifty- 
second year of his age. We know nothing of the circumstances 



CAPTAIN JOHN SMITH. 495 

which attended it, and we are equally ignorant of his domestic 
and personal history, with whom he was related and connected, 
where he resided, what was the amount of his fortune, what were 
his habits, tastes, personal appearance, manners, and conversation, 
and, in general, of those personal details which modest men com- 
monly do not record about themselves. From the fact that he 
expended so much money in the great objects of his life, and par- 
ticularly in the publication and distribution of his pamphlets, we 
may infer that he was independent in his circumstances, if not 
wealthy. For his labors and sacrifices he never received any pe- 
cuniary recompense. In a statement addressed to his majesty's 
commissioners for the reformation of Virginia, and written, prob- 
ably, about 1624, he says that he has spent five years, and more 
than five hundred pounds, in the service of Virginia and New En- 
gland ; * yet,' he adds, ' in neither of those countries have I one 
foot of land, nor the very house I builded, nor the ground I digged 
with my own hands, nor ever any content or satisfaction at all, 
and though I see ordinarily those two countries shared before me 
by them that neither have them, nor know them but by my de- 
scriptions.' " 




JAMES BRINDLEY. 



To this individual the world is indebted for one of its most val- 
uable and economical means of internal communication. James 
Brindley, a self-made man, was the founder of canal navigation. 
The first undertaking of the kind was projected in 1759, under 
the patronage of the Duke of Bridge water, and the subject of this 
memoir was the man by whose talents the scheme was carried 
into execution. 

James Brindley was born in 1716 at Tunstead, or at Thornsett, 
in Derbyshire. His father was a spendthrift, who cared more for 
his own enjoyment than for the prosperity of his family. Conse- 
quently, Brindley was denied the advantages of an education, and 
at an early age had to obtain employment on the neighboring farms. 
When he was seventeen he apprenticed himself to a millwright, 
and soon displayed so much expertness that he was frequently 
left for whole weeks to execute works concerning which he had 
received no instruction from his master. His mechanical ingenu- 
ity was great, and when he experienced a difficulty, his inventive 
genius assisted him to get out of it. In every thing he undertook, 
he displayed so much ready skill that the millers considered it a 
favor to obtain his services in preference to those of his master. 



JAMES BRINDLEY. 497 

In due time lie set up for himself as a millwright, and by his 
ingenious inventions and contrivances acquired a widely-spread 
reputation, extending even to the metropolis. He was employed 
in the construction of the most complicated machinery, and seldom 
undertook a task of the kind without introducing some important 
improvements of his own. 

From pursuits of this kind Brindley was called away to others 
of much greater importance. The Duke of Bridgewater was 
owner of an estate at Worsley, about seven miles from Manches- 
ter, beneath the soil of which were immense mines of coal, from 
which no profit accrued to him, because the cost of land-carriage 
was so heavy that it prevented the coal from being brought into 
the market. To remedy this evil, the duke obtained acts of Par- 
liament (1758-9) enabling him to form a navigable canal from 
Worsley to Manchester. Brindley's reputation had reached the 
duke's ears, and he selected him as a fitting person to carry out 
his scheme. The enterprise was one of remarkable difficulty, 
and had to be prosecuted in the face of prejudice and sneers. 
To avoid the waste of water which the lockage would occasion, 
the canal was to be on a dead level, and, to effect this, tunnels 
must be perforated, enormous embankments raised, and an aque- 
duct of three arches thrown over the navigable river Irwell, at an 
elevation of little less than fifty feet. The audacity of this last 
idea — carrying water over water — exposed Brindley to so much 
ridicule, that for a moment he lost confidence in himself, and 
begged the duke to consult some other engineer, and convince 
himself that he was not insane. A learned man was accordingly 
sent for, and the matter proposed to him. He ridiculed the idea, 
and, when the height and dimensions were communicated to him, 
exclaimed, " I have often heard of castles in the air, but never 
before was shown where any of them were to be erected." Such 
a self-sufficient ignoramus was properly estimated by the duke ; 
he disregarded his opinion, and directed Brindley to proceed. 
The Worsley canal was soon in successful operation ; the impos- 
sible aqueduct was begun and completed in twelve months. 

This triumphant demonstration was the making of Brindley as 
an engineer, and at no distant period turned the attention of the 
public to the subject of opening water communication with various 
parts of the kingdom. The Duke of Bridgewater immediately de- 
termined to continue his canal to the tideway of the Mersey, at 



498 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Iluncorn, so as to connect Liverpool and Manchester by water 
in a thoroughly practical way. The distance to be accomplished 
was thirty miles, and there were two rivers and many deep and 
wide valleys to be crossed, the one by aqueducts, the other by 
broad and lofty embankments. Notwithstanding these obstacles, 
the undertaking was completed in five years. There were but 
ten locks on the whole line, and these were constructed on such 
easy principles that they could be worked with little or no delay. 
The next in order to the Bridgewater canals was that which the 
proprietors designed to call the Trent and Mersey Canal, but to 
which Brindley gave the name of the Grand Trunk, because he 
was convinced that many branches would be extended from it, as 
was subsequently the case. This work was ninety- three miles 
in length, united the ports of Hull and Liverpool, and required 
seventy-six locks, three aqueducts, and five tunnels to carry it 
through the route. Here was an opportunity for the display of 
the highest engineering skill, and Brindley availed himself of it 
with avidity. An eminence called Harecastle Hill was considered 
the great obstacle of the line. Brindley made up his mind that it 
should be tunneled, and, notwithstanding innumerable difficulties, 
arising from the nature of the soil, succeeded in boring the hill at 
the distance of seventy yards from the surface. The tunnel is 
more than a mile and a half long. 

Now that the entire practicability of canal navigation had been 
fully established, Brindley found himself overwhelmed with busi- 
ness. His enthusiasm led him to undertake more than he could 
well attend to without encroaching on his constitution. He was 
destined to fall a martyr to the cause in which he was engaged. 
For some years previous to his death he suffered constantly from 
intermittent fever, aggravated, of course, by frequent exposure to 
moist, unwholesome atmospheres. His system became complete- 
ly worn out, and on the 27th of September, 1772, he died, in the 
fifty-sixth year of his age. 

The character of Brindley was quiet, modest, and unassuming. 
Devoted entirely to his occupations, and accustomed to find every 
resource within himself, he did not cultivate society, or feel much 
at home in it. His appearance was rather against him than oth- 
erwise, being boorish and provincial ; but his conversation is de- 
scribed as pleasing, and strongly colored with the warm imagina- 
tion of a man who would not see an impossibility. During the 
latter years of his life, his whole soul was absorbed in specula- 



JAMES BRINDLEY. 499 

tions respecting canals ; lie meditated on them not only by day, 
but dreamed of them by night. Most of his schemes were remark- 
able for their vastness and practicability, but, in common with 
other ingenious men, he had his wild dreams of the impracticable. 
To this order belonged his scheme for uniting Ireland to England 
by means of a navigable canal. He had such faith in aqueducts 
that he believed even the sea might be spanned by them. A funny 
circumstance is recorded concerning the fixity of his ideas on these 
subjects. While he was under examination before a committee 
of the House of Commons, he spoke so slightingly of rivers that 
a member asked him for what purpose he supposed them to have 
been created. "To feed navigable canals," replied Brindley. 
Once, and but once in his life, he saw a play. It happened while 
he was in London, and for several days afterward he complained 
that it had confused his ideas and unfitted him for business. So 
strong and disagreeable was the effect produced, that he declared 
nothing on earth should ever induce him to see another play. 

When any extraordinary difficulty occurred to Mr. Brindley 
in the execution of his works, having little or no assistance from 
books, or the labors of other men, his resources lay within him- 
self. In order, therefore, to be quiet and uninterrupted while he 
was in search of the necessary expedients, he generally retired to 
his bed ; and he has been known to lie there one, two, or three 
days, till he had attained the object in view. He would then 
get up, and execute his design without any drawing or model. 
Indeed, it never was his custom to make either, unless he was 
obliged to do it to satisfy his employers. His memoiy was so re- 
markable, that he often declared he could remember and execute 
all the parts of the most complex machine, provided he had time, 
in his survey of it, to settle in his mind the several departments, 
and their relations to each other. His method of calculating the 
powers of any machine invented by him was peculiar to himself. 
He worked the question for some time in his head, and then put 
down the results in figures. After this, taking it up again in this 
stage, he worked it further in his mind for a certain time, and set 
down the results as before. In the same way he still proceeded, 
making use of figures only at stated periods of the question. Yet 
the ultimate result was generally true, though the road he trav- 
eled in search of it was unknown to any one but himself; and 
perhaps it would not have been in his power to have shown it to 
another. 




THOMAS HOLCKOFT 

was the son of a shoemaker, and was born in London on the 
10th of December, 1745. The paternal Holcroft was, in many 
respects, a remarkable character. He possessed a passion for 
making experiments in "all sorts of businesses ; he dealt in greens 
and oysters as well as shoes, and, finding that this was not suffi- 
cient, he added the undignified calling of horse-dealer. For this 
latter business he conceived a strong affection, which manifested 
itself in an ardent desire to teach Master Thomas to ride. When 
the latter was very young, his father discarded his petticoats, and 
placed him in pantaloons, in order that he might straddle a horse 
in the proper way. One accomplishment led to another. The 
elder Holcroft conceived a fresh notion that his son was a great 
musical genius, and immediately placed him under the tuition of 
a violin player. What progress he made in the instrument is 
unknown, but he says himself that at the age of seven he had 
wholly forgotten all he had learned. 

About this time a change took place in his father's circum- 
stances, and he left London in great embarrassment. The fam- 



THOMAS HOLCROFT. 501 

ily removed to Berkshire, where Thomas obtained a small amount 
of schooling. This was the most remarkable era in his life, and 
he notes it with enthusiasm. He made such rapid progress, and 
gave such extraordinary evidence of a remarkable memory, that 
his father was completely astonished, and made him a show-child. 
He imposed heavy tasks on him too, and set him eleven chapters 
of the Bible to learn every day. A neighboring farmer caught 
the youth with his Bible in his hand, and asked him if he could 
read already. Holcroft answered yes, began at the place where 
the book was open, read fluently, and afterward told him that, 
if he pleased, he should hear the tenth chapter of Nehemiah. 
At this the farmer seemed still more amazed, and, wishing to be 
convinced, bade him read. After listening till he found he could 
really pronounce the uncouth Hebrew names so much better and 
more easily than he supposed to be within the power of so young 
a child, he patted his head, gave him a penny, and said he was 
an uncommon boy. " It would be hard to say," writes Holcroft, 
" whether his praise or his gift was the most flattering to me." 

After a short residence in Berkshire, Holcroft's family led a 
wandering sort of life, and eventually settled once more in Lon- 
don, in very straitened circumstances. So poor were they, in- 
deed, that Mrs. Holcroft had to turn peddler, and vended pins, nee- 
dles, tape, etc., through the streets, accompanied by her son, who 
trotted after her. Notwithstanding these exertions, it seemed 
impossible to make a living in the metropolis, and the family 
started on a peddling tour through the provinces. They came at 
length to a village which Holcroft thought remarkably clean, and 
which Mr. Holcroft pronounced to be the handsomest in the king- 
dom. " We must haye been very poor at this time," says the au- 
thor, " for it was here that I was sent one day by myself to beg 
from house to house. Young as I was, I had considerable readi- 
ness in making out a story, and on this day my little inventive 
faculties shone forth with much brilliancy. I told one story at 
one house, and another at another, and continued to vary my tale 
just as the suggestions arose. The consequence was, I moved 
the good people exceedingly. One called me a poor fatherless 
child ; another exclaimed, ' What a pity ! I had so much sense ;' 
a third patted me on the head, and prayed God to bless me, that 
I might make a good man. The result of this expedition was 
that I brought away as much as I could carry to the place of 



502 SELF-MADE MEN. 

rendezvous appointed by my parents. There I astonished them 
by again reciting the false tales I had so readily invented. My 
father seemed greatly alarmed, and, fearing that I was in danger 
of growing up a liar and a vagrant, declared I should never go on 
such errands again." It was fortunate for Holcroft that he had 
such a father. Indeed, this parent, although eccentric in the ex- 
treme, and of decidedly vagrant habits, was a good man, and at 
all times and in all places made his son repeat his prayers and 
catechism morning and night, and on Sundays read the prayer- 
book and Bible. He was fond of exercising his son's memory. 
On one occasion, a copy of the celebrated ballad, " Chevy Chase," 
came into his possession. " Well, Tom, can you get that song by 
heart V he asked. The boy replied yes, and was then promised 
a bribe of a halfpenny if he committed it in three days. The task 
was performed (like many others of a similar kind), and Tom be- 
came a wealthy man in his own estimation. 

The next business in which we find Mr. Holcroft was that of 
carrier. He procured two or three asses, and Tom was set to 
drive them from place to place. In this employment he suffered 
many hardships and privations. The bad nourishment he met 
with, the cold and wretched manner in which he was clothed, 
and the excessive weariness he endured in following the animals 
day after day, and being obliged to drive creatures perhaps still 
more weary than himself, were miseries much too great for his lit- 
tle heart, and filled it with sorrows which he remembered poign- 
antly years and years afterward. At times he had to travel great 
distances on foot, and in one instance walked thirty miles. When 
near the end of this wearisome journey, his little legs refused to 
carry him farther, and a kind countryman picked him up and 
carried him to his destination. 

When he was about twelve years of age he obtained a situation 
as stable-boy at Newmarket, and entered on what he calls " a new 
existence." Being new to the trade, a good many tricks were 
played off on him. "I do not recollect one half of the tricks that 
are played off upon new-comers," he writes, "but that with which 
they begin, if I do not mistake, is to persuade their victim that 
the first thing necessary for a well-trained stable-boy is to borrow 
as many vests as he can, and in the morning, after he has dressed 
and fed his horse, to put them all on, take a race of two or three 
miles, return home, strip himself stark naked, and immediately 



THOMAS HOLCROFT. 503 

be covered up in a warm dunghill, which is the method, they 
assure him, which the grooms take when they sweat themselves 
down to ride a race. Should the poor fellow follow these direc- 
tions, they conclude the joke with pails full of cold water, which 
stand ready for the purpose of cooling off. Another of their diver- 
sions used to be that of hunting the owl. To hunt the owl is to 
persuade a booby that there is an owl found at roost in a corner 
of the farm ; that a ladder must be placed against a hole, through 
which, when the persons shall be pleased to hoot and hunt him, 
as they call it, he must necessarily fly, as the door is shut, and 
every other outlet closed ; that the boy selected to catch the owl 
must mount the ladder on the outside, and the purblind animal, 
they say, will fly directly into his hat. The poor candidate for 
sport mounts to his place, thoughtless of any thing but fun. The 
chaps within, laughing and shouting, pretend to drive the ill-starred 
bird nearer and nearer to the hole, when all at once they discharge 
the contents of pails and tubs upon the devoted head of the expect- 
ing owl-catcher, who is generally precipitated in fright and terror 
from the ladder into some soft, but not very agreeable preparation 
below." Against these traps for the unwary young Hoi croft re- 
ceived timely warning, and averted their dire effects. He remain- 
ed in this employment for upAvard of three years. The life of a 
stable-boy in a sporting town is not calculated to develop any 
latent literary ability that he may happen to possess, but young 
Holcroft found time to read a few books. Swift and Addison 
afforded him much delight, and books of piety, if the author were 
but inspired with zeal, fixed his attention wherever he met with 
them. John Bunyan he ranked among the most divine authors 
he had ever read. He contrived to improve his education too, 
and out of his scanty income (four pounds a year) paid five shil- 
lings a quarter for singing lessons, and five shillings a quarter for 
instruction in arithmetic. The former he practiced in a hayloft, 
the latter he studied with an old nail and the back of the stable 
door. 

In the mean time Mr. Holcroft had established himself in Lon- 
don, and was once more at work in his cobbler's stall. Tom 
made up his mind to abandon stable-life and repair to the me- 
tropolis. He despised his companions for the grossness of their 
ideas, and the total absence of every pursuit in which the mind 
had any share. The little knowledge he possessed exposed him 



504 SELF-MADE MEN. 

to their ridicule : this he could avoid in the quiet shop of his fa- 
ther. He carried out his idea ; arrived in London, learned his 
father's business, and became an expert workman. He could 
command the highest wages, but did not become rich. Every 
penny he could spare was spent in the purchase of books, and a 
great deal of time was consumed in mastering their contents. 

In 1765 Mr. Holcroft married, and soon after opened a school 
for teaching, children to read in Liverpool. Not being successful 
in this undertaking, he abandoned it, and returned to London. 
Once more he resumed the shoemaking business ; but its sedentary 
nature injured his health, and brought on a return of his old en- 
emy, asthma, a complaint with which he had been troubled from 
youth. He was compelled to quit the bench, and seek other and 
more congenial employment. With this object, in view, he repeat- 
ed his Liverpool experiment and opened a school, but with no 
better luck. After living three months on potatoes and butter- 
milk, and having only one scholar, he discontinued his labors. 
About this time he commenced his literary career. A few es- 
says from his pen found their way into the Evening Post, and the 
editor paid him for them at the rate of five shillings a column ; 
not a large remuneration, but grateful to the feelings and wel- 
come to the pocket of the young author. His means were now 
at their lowest ebb, and he was compelled to take a situation in 
the family of Granville Sharpe. He did not retain this long, for 
his habits were not the habits of a servant. Thrown out of em- 
ployment, and reduced to a state of the extremest poverty, he was 
on the point of embarking for British India as a common soldier 
in the ranks of the Indian army, when a friend persuaded him to 
join a band of strolling players. With this company he traversed 
Ireland, where he first appeared on the stage, and every part of 
England. His success was not extraordinary, and, as a general 
thing, he received more censure than praise ; but, for want of bet- 
ter employment, he continued in the profession for seven or eight 
years, suffering much misery, and at times almost reduced to a 
state of starvation. Only one advantage accrued from his con- 
nection with the players : he was able to prosecute a successful 
course of reading, and make himself extensively acquainted with 
English literature. What was of immediate advantage to him 
was the acquaintance he succeeded in forming with Garrick, the 
famous actor, and Mrs. Siddons. With such associations, his 



THOMAS HOLCROFT. 505 

thoughts naturally took one direction. He became ambitious to 
write for the stage. Some early compositions, of little merit, 
were favorably received, and he persevered. A farce, called the 
" Crisis," achieved a decided success, and from this time he con- 
tinued to apply himself unceasingly to literary pursuits. He be- 
came eminent as a dramatist, and wrote extensively for the book- 
sellers. In the interest of the latter he went to France, and made 
several translatious of works which he selected for the purpose. 
His knowledge of the French language and of German, howsoever 
picked up, was perfect. Among the important works which he 
translated were the writings of Frederick the Great, in twelve large 
volumes, and the curious and entertaining works of Lavater, the 
celebrated physiognomist of Germany. His contributions to the 
stage were numerous, and one work in particular, " The Road to 
Rum," carried his fame to all corners of the world where the En- 
glish language was spoken. It is a favorite with American au- 
diences to the present day, and is a commendable work in every 
respect. 

During his stay in France Mr. Holcroft imbibed much of the 
liberalism of the day, and when he returned to England became 
an active reformer. He wrote much for the people, and contrib- 
uted largely to the alarm of the government — an alarm which re- 
sulted in the suspension of the Habeas Corpus Act (1794). Infor- 
mations were filed against Holcroft and eleven of his associates, 
and they were seized and committed to the Tower to await their 
trial on a charge of high treason. In October the trials came on 
at the Old Bailey. The day had arrived when the great ques^- 
tion whether the people were to have any share in the govern- 
ment, even to speak against its abuse or in favor of its reform, 
was to be decided. Thomas Hardy, a celebrated English demo- 
crat, was the first placed in the dock. Mr. Erskine was his coun- 
sel, and for seven hours he harangued the jury with matchless 
eloquence. " I claim no merit with the prisoner for my zeal," he 
said, in his peroration ; " it proceeds from a selfish principle inhe- 
rent in the human heart. I am counsel, gentlemen, for myself. 
In every word I utter, I feel that I am pleading for the safety of 
my own life, for the lives of my children after me, for the happi- 
ness of my country, and for the universal condition of civil soci- 
ety throughout the world." Excitement was at its height, and 
the crown yielded. The prisoners were ordered to be set at lib- 

Y 



506 SELF-MADE MEN. 

erty ; " the acclamations of the Old Bailey reverberated from the 
farthest shores of Scotland, and a whole people felt the enthusi- 
astic transports of recovered freedom." Holcroft continued his 
efforts in the cause of constitutional reform without farther mo- 
lestation. 

The remainder of Holcroft' s life was passed in arduous literary 
labor. He visited Hamburg and Paris, where he made researches 
in various departments of letters. In the latter capital he re- 
mained about two years, and subsequently published an elaborate 
work concerning it, which enjoys a high position in literature. 
He was methodical and industrious, and accomplished great tasks 
with ease and completeness. His mental activity was extraordi- 
nary — so excessive, at times, that it interfered with his general 
health ; but his intellect remained unimpaired to the last, and he 
died in March, 1804, in his sixty-ninth year. The life of Thom- 
as Holcroft is calculated (we quote his own words) " to excite an 
ardent emulation in the breasts of youthful readers, by showing 
them how difficulties may be endured, how they may be over- 
come, and how they may at last contribute, as a school of instruc- 
tion, to bring forth hidden talent." 




ROBERT BLOOMFIELD, 

who has been described as the "most spiritual shoemaker that 
ever handled an awl," was born in the county of Suffolk, England, 
in the year of freedom, 1776. His parents were in extremely poor 
circumstances, and at an early age his father died. To provide 
the means of support for herself and children, Mrs. Bloomfield 
opened a small school in the village, and it was under her roof 
that Robert gained most of the knowledge he possessed. For a 
few months he went to an academy of a better kind, but a single 
quarter was probably the extent of his course. 

When Robert was eleven years of age he went to live with his 
uncle, Mr. Austin, a reputable farmer, who treated him kindly, 
but paid him no wages. His mother supplied him with clothes 
so long as she was able, but was at length compelled to look to 
two elder sons, who were shoemakers in London, to assist her. 
She accordingly wrote to them upon the subject, and it was at 
length resolved that Robert should go to London, where one 
brother promised to initiate him into the mysteries of St. Crispin, 



508 SELF-MADE MEN. 

and the other to clothe and support him until he was able to gain 
his own living. The mother was pleased with this arrangement, 
and made a pilgrimage to great smoky 1 London in order to place 
her darling boy in the custody of his elder brothers. She charged 
them, as they valued a mother's blessing, to set good examples for 
him, and "never to forget that he had lost his father." 

The brothers were in humble circumstances, and lodged and 
labored in a little garret, which served them for every purpose. 
" As we were all single men lodgers at a shilling per week, our 
beds were coarse, and all things far from being clean and snug, 
•like what Robert had been accustomed to at home. Robert was 
our man to fetch all things to hand. At noon he brought our 
dinners from the cook-shop, and any one of our fellow-workmen 
that wanted to have any thing brought in would send Robert, and 
assist in his work, and teach him, as a recompense for his trouble. 
Every day, when the boy from the public house came for the pew- 
ter pots, and to learn what porter was wanted, he always brought 
the yesterday's newspaper. The reading of this newspaper we 
had been used to take by turns, but, after Robert came, he mostly 
read for us, because his time was of the least value." The task 
was an agreeable one, but not unattended with difficulty. The 
little fellow tumbled across words which he had never read before, 
and which bothered him immensely. His brother George took 
compassion on his perplexity, and bought a Dictionary, for which 
he paid the enormous sum of fourpence. Robert soon became 
master of its contents, and was able to read the newspaper with- 
out impediment. He was considered so good that the workmen 
got books for him to read to them. " I, at this time," says George 
Bloomfield, "read the London Magazine, and in that work about 
two sheets were set apart for a review. Robert seemed always 
eager to read this review. Here he could see what the literary 
men were doing, and learn how to judge of the merits of the 
works which came out, and I observed that he always looked at 
the Poet's Corner. One day he repeated a long song which he had 
composed to an old tune. I was much surprised that he should 
make such smooth verses, so I persuaded him to try whether the 
editor of our paper would give them a place in the Poet's Corner. 
He succeeded, and they were printed." After this success he 
contributed a number of pieces to the same magazine, and felt all 
the exaltation which a young author may be expected to expe- 



ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 509 

rience under such circumstances. His mind seemed to act with 
redoubled activity, and his powers increased with every fresh ef- 
fort, as the true literary mind is sure to do. 

Shortly after this Robert changed his lodgings, and was thrown 
into the society of a man of the name of Kay, who, being a read- 
er himself, possessed several books, among which were " The Sea- 
sons," " Paradise Lost," and some novels. The first was Robert's 
especial delight, and he perused and reperused it until he had it 
nearly by heart. It was to this work that he was indebted for 
his idea of the "Farmer's Boy," a poem to which Bloomfield 
owes his reputation. In his eighteenth year he paid a visit to his 
native place, and the tutored eye of the poet discovered new beau- 
ties* in the scenes which had surrounded him from youth, and 
which came back to him with a freshness and vigor indescribable. 
He returned to London, and subsided for a while into his usual 
occupations. He made an arrangement with the landlord of his 
brothers, who was also a shoemaker, and became his apprentice. 
Not only did he apply himself diligently to the duties of his sta- 
tion, but with some enthusiasm. He became an excellent work- 
man, and worked hard for many years. His amusements were 
reading, music, and the composition of verses. 

Being now in a position to marry, he selected an appropriate 
helpmate and removed to Coleman Street, where, in the garret, 
he followed his trade, as one among many journeymen. There, 
amid the din of hammers and voices, the noise and confusion of 
thoughtless men, the jokes and sneers of the illiterate, Robert 
Bloomfield composed his great poem, the " Farmer's Boy." Flav- 
ing no facilities for writing, he composed and remembered about 
six hundred lines before he put a single word to paper. At length 
the manuscript was finished, and the author, palpitating with 
anxiety, commenced his tour of the publishers, but no one would 
undertake its publication. The obscurity of the author and the 
length of the poem alike contributed to this result. The editor 
of the " Monthly Magazine" gives the following account of Rob- 
ert's visit to his office : "He brought his poem to our office, and, 
though his unpolished appearance, his coarse handwriting, and 
wretched orthography afforded no prospect that his production 
could be printed, yet he found attention by his repeated calls, and 
by the humility of his expectations, which were limited to half a 
dozen copies of the Magazine. At length, on his name being 



510 SELF-MADE MEN. 

mentioned where a literary gentleman, particularly conversant in 
rural economy, happened to be present, the poem was finally ex- 
amined, and its general aspect excited the risibility of that gen- 
tleman in so pointed a manner, that Bloomfield was called into 
the room, and exhorted not to waste his time and neglect his em- 
ployment in making vain attempts, and particularly in treading 
on ground which Thomson had sanctified. His earnestness and 
confidence, however, led the editor to advise him to consult his 
countryman, Mr. Capel LofFt, to whom he gave him a letter of 
introduction. On his departure, the gentleman present warmly 
complimented the editor on the sound advice which he had given 
the poor fellow, and it was naturally conceived that an industri- 
ous man was thereby likely to be saved from a ruinous infatua- 
tion." 

Undismayed by this cold treatment, Bloomfield hurried off with 
his manuscript to Mr. LofFt. That gentleman took the trouble of 
examining the poem, and did not throw it down with disgust 
when he came to a badly-spelled word (stumbling-blocks of a very 
frequent kind in Bloomfield' s manuscript). Mr. Lofft declared 
the poem to be eminently worthy of publication, and exerted him- 
self in procuring a publisher so successfully, that Messrs. Vernor 
and Hood purchased the manuscript for fifty pounds. Bloomfield 
was astonished. He had offered it to the Monthly Magazine for 
five or six copies of that cheerful publication. The poem made 
its appearance in due time, and achieved an immediate success. 
Several editions were issued in rapid succession, and in a short 
time upward of twenty-five thousand copies were disposed of. 
The publishers behaved generously to the author (considering that 
he had no farther claim upon them), and presented him with a 
check for £200. In addition to this, he received much kindness 
from persons in position. The Duke of Grafton presented him 
with a life annuity of a shilling a day, and obtained for him a sit- 
uation in a government office ; but ill health compelled him to 
relinquish it, and return to an avocation to which his constitu- 
tion had become better accustomed. Subsequently he made an 
unsuccessful effort to establish himself in the bookselling busi- 
ness. By this failure he lost the little money he had accumu- 
lated, and was reduced to poverty. Continued ill health added 
to his distress, and for many long years he dragged out a sickly 
existence, "as miserable," says Professor Wilson, "as the exist- 



ROBERT BLOOMFIELD. 511 

ence of a good man can be made by the narrowest circumstances." 
After much bodily suffering, aggravated by the causes we have 
mentioned, Kobert Bloomfield died on the 19th of August, 1823, 
at the age of fifty-seven years. He left a widow and four chil- 
dren, and debts to the amount of £200, which sum was raised by 
the exertions of his benevolent friends and admirers, among whom 
was the poet-laureate Sou they. 

The works of Bloomfield are pervaded with the most amiable 
and benevolent feeling. In his descriptions he is simple, natural, 
and pathetic. He is always alive to the pure suggestions of na- 
ture, and his sentiments are lofty, virtuous, and healthful, with- 
out being strained and spasmodic. English literature is indebted 
to him for one of the finest poems illustrative of English rural 
life. The merit of the " Farmer's Boy" has been recognized and 
endorsed by the literary world in the most ample manner. It 
has been published and republished in every form, and maintains 
its position to the present day. An edition was published in 
Germany the year following its first appearance in London. At 
Paris, a translation, entitled "Le Valet du Fermier," was made by 
Etienne Allard ; one was made into Italian ; and in 1805, an ex- 
tremely curious edition in Latin was published in London, with the 
title " ' Agricolae Puer, poema Eoberti Bloomfield celeberrimum, 
in versus Latinos redditum,' auctore Gulielmo Clubbe, LL.D." 
Bloomfield's subsequent publications fully maintained the reputa- 
tion achieved by his first. In his " Rural Tales, Ballads, and 
Songs," his " Good Tidings, or News from the Farm," his " Wild 
Flowers," and his "Banks of the Wye," will be found exquisite 
touches of poetic beauty. 




SIE EICHAKD AKKWKIGHT. 

Three quarters of a century ago, a man was splendidly dressed 
if he displayed a linen shirt, and a woman felt proud of her neat 
ankles if she could show them in spotless cotton hose. Woolen 
habiliments were the order of the day. The nimble fingers of 
the domestic circle fabricated all that was needful for the adorn- 
ment of the person. In the long winter nights, the humming of 
the spinning-wheel was heard in every cottage home, and tales of 
love were whispered to its music, and mighty meshes were thrown 
around gallant hearts. In those days, the possession of a town- 
bought skirt or coat was evidence of wealth, and the happy own- 
er became the object of public curiosity. Critical damsels exam- 
ined the weft and the woof with exact eyes, and failed not, on the 
first opportunity, to imitate their excellence. England was cele- 
brated then as now for her manufactures. Her woolen goods 
were sent to all parts of the world, and were marvels of neatness 
and durability. In 1764, the total value of exported English cot- 
ton goods was little beyond two hundred thousand pounds, while 
that of woolen was more than ten times the amount. In the 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 513 

present day the case is precisely and wonderfully reversed. The 
woolen manufactures have sunk down to comparative unimport- 
ance, and the cotton manufactures have become the staple of the 
kingdom, employing directly and indirectly millions of men, wom- 
en, and children, and yielding an enormous revenue to the country. 

Richard Arkwright, the subject of this memoir, was the illus- 
trious and memorable instrument that effected this great and as- 
tonishing change, and gave to his country an importance which it 
is scarcely possible it would have obtained but for his genius. 

Toward the end of the seventeenth century the demand for cot- 
ton goods began to increase, and, owing to the difficulty of pro- 
duction, far exceeded the supply. The English cottons in those 
days had only the weft of cotton, the warp or longitudinal threads 
of the cloth being of linen. No one dreamed of making the latter 
of cotton, because, by hand-labor, it was impossible to make the 
thread strong enough for the purpose. Notwithstanding these 
drawbacks, the demand for cotton goods kept on steadily increas- 
ing. It was natural, therefore, that the manufacturers should en- 
deavor to find out a means whereby a greater supply could be ob- 
tained with less difficulty and labor, and, consequently, at a less 
expense. Machinery was, of course, thought of, and many inge- 
nious men set their wits to work to discover a way to spin several 
threads at one and the same time, instead of slowly twisting a 
thread. About the year 1764, Mr. Hargreaves, a native of Black- 
burn, in Lancashire, succeeded in producing a machine — since 
called the spinning-jenny — whereby the object desired could be 
effected. For this piece of ingenuity Hargreaves was rewarded 
by a mob, who broke into his house and destroyed his machine. 
The outrage was repeated several times, but in the end the spin- 
ning-jenny gained the day. So far one of the principal obstacles 
of the manufacture was removed; but Hargreaves's invention, al- 
though highly valuable, was still insufficient. It could not give 
to the warp the hardness and firmness which it required, and 
which Arkwright succeeded in effecting. It is necessary to men- 
tion these things before proceeding with our memoir. 

Richard Arkwright was the son of poor parents, and the young- 
est of a family of thirteen. He was born on the 23d of Decem- 
ber, 1732, at Preston, in Lancashire, England. The indigent cir- 
cumstances of his parents rendered it impossible for them to be- 
stow on their son even a simple education. It was not until late 

Y 2 



514 SELF-MADE MEN. 

in life that he learned to read and write. He was brought up to 
the humble profession of barber, and established himself at Bol- 
ton. It is probable that he followed this vocation for many years. 
The class of customers he had was not likely to enrich him in a 
very rapid manner. It is said that he occupied an underground 
cellar, and put up a sign at the entrance, on which was inscribed, 
"Come to the subterraneous barber; he shaves for a penny." 
This invitation was so attractive in those days that his customers 
became numerous, and the other barbers of the place found that 
to compete with Arkwright they must reduce their prices to his 
standard. Arkwright was not to be outdone. He made another 
reduction, and startled the town with the promise of "a clean 
shave for a halfpenny." In the year 1760-61 he gave up his cel- 
lar, and became an itinerant dealer in hair. Wigs were then gen- 
erally worn, and the immense quantity of hair which was required 
for them was collected by men who devoted themselves to the 
business, and traveled from place to place. This enterprise turned 
out a very profitable one, and in a few years he succeeded in col- 
lecting a little property. It was something more than good for- 
tune that enabled him to do so. He had succeeded in making a 
new chemical hair dye, and, by using it adroitly, was able to please 
all his customers, and supply all demands. Arkwright experi- 
enced no scarcity of peculiar colors. 

Arkwright had a strong bent for mechanics ; and, now that he 
had a little leisure time and sufficient money, he devoted himself 
to mechanical experiments. They were, unfortunately, directed 
to a fallacious point — the discovery of perpetual motion — and 
made such inroads into his funds that in a short time, although 
a burgess of Preston, he was reduced to a state of poverty. Plis 
wife, impatient at what she conceived to be a wanton waste of 
time and money, seized some of his models and destroyed them, 
hoping thus to remove forever the cause of their privations. She 
committed a fatal error. Arkwright could never excuse or for- 
give such a wanton piece of cruelty, and shortly afterward sep- 
arated from her in consequence of it. 

In 1767 Arkwright became acquainted at Warrington with a 
man named Kay, a clockmaker, who assisted our hero in con- 
structing some portions of his perpetual motion machinery, and 
afterward in making parts of other machines to which Arkwright's 
attention was at this time directed. His connection with Kay 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 515 

turned out very unfortunate, and for a time had an injurious ef- 
fect on his reputation. Kay, many years after, having been dis- 
missed from Arkwright's employment, abused his employer in a 
merciless manner, and even went so far as to state, in a court of 
law, that his so-called inventions were only plagiarisms on inven- 
tions made by a man named Highs. 

After many mortifications and difficulties, Arkwright completed 
his first cotton machine, but, being without money, he was still at 
a loss how to bring it into use. He determined on making an ef- 
fort in his native town, Preston. To Preston, therefore, he re- 
paired, and his machine was fitted up in the parlor of the gram- 
mar school-house. To bring forward a labor-saving machine in 
a town where every man, woman, and child lived by the exercise 
of manual labor, was a dangerous experiment. The fate of poor 
Hargreaves was before Arkwright, and, as the indignation of the 
mob began to find expression, he wisely determined on packing up 
his machine, and carrying it to some less dangerous locality. In 
company with Kay, our hero removed to Nottingham. He was 
here fortunate enough to secure the co-operation of men of capi- 
tal, who were shrewd enough to see the manifold advantages of 
his invention. A partnership was entered into between Need, 
Strutt, and Arkwright, and in 1769 the latter obtained for his 
invention the expensive protection of letters patent. In later 
years he obtained several other patents, and it will be well to ex- 
plain here for what they were obtained. The machinery which 
they protected consisted of various parts, his second specification 
enumerating no fewer than ten different contrivances. The most 
important of these was a device for drawing out the cotton from 
a coarse thread to one perfectly fine and hard, thus rendering it 
fit for warp as well as weft. Nothing could be more beautiful or 
more effective than this contrivance, which, with an additional 
provision for giving the proper twist to the thread, constitutes 
what is called the water-frame or throstle. Arkwright claimed 
this as his own invention, admitting, with regard to some of the 
other parts, that he was rather the improver than the inventor. 
The original spinning machine for coarse thread — called the spin- 
ning-jenny — he acknowledged to be the invention of Hargreaves, 
but the water-frame or throstle, and all the other ingenious com- 
binations whereby mechanical spinning was perfected and ren- 
dered infallible, belonged to him, and he felt justified in obtain- 



516 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ing patents for them. Any one who has been in a cotton fac- 
tory, and observed the marvelous precision with which the deli- 
cately-elaborated machinery performs its various functions, can 
understand what kind of application, energy, talent, and genius 
were needed to bring it to its present perfection. It was not the 
inspiration of a moment, but the application of years that tri- 
umphed over the roughness of mechanical motion. Even after 
he had succeeded in forming his partnership with Messrs. Need 
and Strutt, his success was far from being secured. For a long 
time the speculation was unprofitable and disheartening. He 
tells us himself that it did not begin to pay till it had been per- 
severed in for five years, and had swallowed up a capital of more 
than twelve thousand pounds. 

The first spinning machine on Arkwright's plan was erected at 
Nottingham, and was worked by horse-power. This being found 
insufficient, water was resorted to ; and in 1771, a factory on a 
far larger scale than the first was built on the River Derwent, at 
Cromford, near Wirks worth, in Derbyshire ; from this circum- 
stance the machine received its name of the water-frame and the 
thread-water-twist. Now commenced Arkwright's persecutions. 
While there was nothing to be snatched from him, people were 
glad enough to give him the hand of fellowship ; but so soon as 
the halfpenny barber raised himself above the commonest chin, 
every one was ready to aim a blow at him. The easiest way of 
doing this was to assail the originality of his contrivances, and to 
assert they were all more or less plagiarized from others. The 
Lancashire cotton manufacturers were, of course, anxious to over- 
throw Arkwright, and to dispose of a powerful rival. They re- 
fused to buy his materials, although confessedly the best in the 
market, and by a series of petty but vexatious oppositions, did 
every thing in their power to make Arkwright and his associates 
unpopular with the trade, with the public, and with the working 
community. In 1779 this spitefulness bore fruits. The mob 
rose in arms against machinery, and prowled about the manufac- 
turing districts, destroying all they could find. A large mill built 
by Arkwright at Birkacre, near Chorley, was destroyed by a mob, 
in the presence of a powerful body of police and military, without 
any of the civil authorities requiring their interference to prevent 
the outrage, The inmates defended the mill as long as they were 
able, and on the first day drove the rioters back, with the loss of 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 517 

two men killed and eight wounded. It was not till the latter re- 
turned with greatly increased numbers that they accomplished 
their purpose. Nor was this the only blow he suffered. Man- 
ufacturers who used his machines, and paid for the privilege with 
a very ill grace, refused to do so any longer, on the old pretext 
that the inventions were not his. To put a stop to this, Ark- 
wright, in 1781, brought actions against the pirates. They de- 
fended themselves on the plea that the specification of the in- 
ventions was obscure and unintelligible, and consequently that the 
patent was void. No attempt was made to show that the in- 
ventions were not original. Their plea was valid in law, and, 
much to the disgust of all right-minded people, Arkwright lost 
the day. At first he thought of making an appeal to Parliament ; 
but, after preparing a case, which he submitted to the public, he 
abandoned this intention, but in 1785 brought another action 
against the infringers of his patent, and succeeded in getting a 
verdict. The cotton-spinners, who had been profiting by Ark- 
wright' s genius without giving him any thing in return, were 
greatly incensed. They formed powerful combinations against 
what they were pleased to call Arkwright's monopoly, and finally 
commenced proceedings against the patentee to try the validity 
cf his patent. They asserted that the patent was a great incon- 
venience to the public ; that when the patent was granted the in- 
vention was not a new one ; that the invention was not Ark- 
wright's, and that the specification was imperfect. The trial 
lasted from nine o'clock in the morning until half past twelve at 
night, and many witnesses were examined — among others, Kay, 
who said all he could to injure his former employer. Principally 
on the evidence of this man, the jury returned a verdict annihi- 
lating the patent, which Arkwright tried in vain to set aside. 
Thus, after years and years of steady application and thought, he 
found himself thrown on the mercy of his enemies, destitute of 
every kind of legal protection, and surrounded by men who were 
all too ready to thrust their hands into his pockets and his repu- 
tation, and leave him to perish, ruined and broken-hearted. But 
his enemies were doomed to grievous disappointment. Arkwright 
was made of stuff which did riot shrink with the spiteful sprink- 
lings of cold water. Goaded by injustice, he turned round on 
his enemies, and astonished them by an opposition which soon 
carried every thing before it. In a short time his partnership 



518 SELF-MADE MEN. 

with Need and Strutt came to an end, and the mill at Cromford 
passed into his own hands. He connected himself with other 
manufactories, and soon obtained such a control of the trade that 
prices were fixed by him, and controlled all the other cotton-spin- 
ners. "The most marked traits in the character of Arkwright," 
says Mr. Baines, "were his wonderful ardor, energy, and perse- 
verance. He commonly labored in his multifarious concerns from 
five in the morning till nine at night ; and when considerably 
more than fifty years of age, feeling that the defects of his educa- 
tion placed him under great difficulty and inconvenience in con- 
ducting his correspondence and in the general management of his 
business, he encroached upon his sleep in order to gain an hour 
each day to learn English grammar, and another hour to improve 
his writing and orthography. He was a severe economist of 
time, and, that he might not waste a moment, he generally trav- 
eled with four horses, and at a very rapid speed. His concerns 
in Derbyshire, Lancashire, and Scotland were so extensive and 
numerous as to show at once his astonishing power of transacting 
business, and his all-grasping spirit. In many of these he had 
partners, but he generally managed in such a way that, whoever 
lost, he himself was a gainer. So unbounded was his confidence 
in the success of his machinery, and in the national wealth to be 
produced by it, that he would make light of discussions on taxa- 
tion, and say that he would pay the national debt. His specula- 
tive schemes were vast and daring ; he contemplated entering into 
the most extensive mercantile transactions, and buying up all the 
cotton in the world, in order to make an enormous profit by the 
monopoly." 

A man of such strength of character requires but little protec- 
tion. When once he has found the path to fortune, he is sure to 
pursue it to the temple of the goddess. He was able to lace all 
opposition, and to reap a rich reward for his ingenuity, in spite of 
the illiberality of the laws which refused him protection. In 1786 
he was appointed high sheriff of Derbyshire, and for delivering an 
address to the king, suggested by the escape of that individual from 
assassination, received the trumpery honor of knighthood, and be- 
came Sir Eichard Arkwright. He did not long enjoy the distinc- 
tion which had thus fallen on him by chance. For many years 
he had suffered from that terrible malady, asthma. The seden- 
tary life which this demands, aggravated by incessant application 



SIR RICHARD ARKWRIGHT. 519 

to business, brought on a complication of disorders, of which he 
died on the 3d of August, 1792, in the sixtieth year of his age. 
The fortune he left behind is said to have amounted to the sum 
of half a million sterling. Whatever may have been the objec- 
tions raised to his inventions during his lifetime, it is now uni- 
versally conceded that Arkwright succeeded in establishing the 
cotton manufactures in England, and in benefiting millions of 
human beings by giving them the means of honest employment. 
He also secured to his country its most important branch of com- 
merce by giving it machinery whereby it could excel other coun- 
tries in production, excellence, and cheapness. " No man," just- 
ly observes Mr. M'Culloch, " ever better deserved his good for- 
tune, or has a stronger claim on the respect and gratitude of pos- 
terity. His inventions have opened a new and boundless field of 
employment ; and while they have conferred infinitely more ben- 
efit on his native country than she could have derived from the 
absolute dominion of Mexico and Peru, they have been univer- 
sally productive of wealth and enjoyments." 




HENKY KIEKE WHITE. 

It is seldom that the life of a poet affords so unalloyed a pleas- 
ure as that furnished by the subject of this sketch. The pleasure 
is in the total absence of vice which it presents, and not in the 
career of the individual, for that was brief and unhappy. A more 
chaste and admirable man never lived. 

Henry Kirke White was the son of a butcher, and was born at 
Nottingham, England, on the 21st of March, 1785. From his 
earliest days he displayed the susceptibilities of a poetic tempera- 
ment, and was passionately fond of reading. " I could fancy," 
said his eldest sister, " I see him in his little chair, with a large 
book upon his knee, and my mother calling 'Henry, my love, 
come to dinner,' which was repeated so often without being re- 
garded that she was obliged to change the tone of her voice be- 
fore she could rouse him." At the age of six he was placed under 
the care of the Rev. John Blanchard, who kept the best school in 
Nottingham, where he learned writing, arithmetic, and French, 
and he continued there for several years. He was, even in those 
early days, a remarkable child. It is said that, when about seven, 



HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 521 

lie was accustomed to go secretly into his father's kitchen, and 
teach the servant to read and write ; and, to encourage her, he 
composed a tale of a Swiss emigrant, which he gave her. In his 
eleventh year he wrote a separate theme for each of the twelve or 
fourteen boys in his class, and the excellence of the various pieces 
obtained his master's applause. 

Notwithstanding these indications of intellectual superiority, 
Henry's father insisted that he should be brought up to the butch- 
ering business. Even while he was at school, one day in every 
week, and his leisure hours on the others, were employed in carry- 
ing meat to his father's customers. Fortunately, his mother was 
not enamored of her husband's business, and, seeing the natural 
inclinations of her son, determined that they should not be utterly 
thwarted by a life which could not fail to be repulsive to his in- 
stincts. The alternative which she selected was scarcely better 
than the evil. Young Henry was placed at a stocking-loom, with 
the view of bringing him up to the hosiery business. His parents 
were still too poor to think of giving him a profession. It may 
be easily imagined that this new business failed to interest his 
imagination or satisfy his taste. He could not bear the idea, he 
says, of spending some years of his life in shining and folding U p 
stockings. He poured his complaints into the willing ear of his 
mother ; he wanted, he said, something to occupy his brain, and 
he should be wretched if he continued longer at this trade, or, 
indeed, in any thing except one of the learned professions. In an 
"Address to Contemplation," which he wrote at this time, he 
describes his feelings : 

"Why along 
The dusky track of commerce should I toil. 
When, with an easy competence content, 
I can alone be happy where, with thee, 
I may enjoy the loveliness of Nature, 
And loose the wings of fancy ? Thus alone 
Can I partake the happiness of earth ; 
And to be happy here is man's chief end, 
Eor to be happy he must needs be good." 

He continued his remonstrances so earnestly, and importuned 
so incessantly, that his parents at length obtained his release from 
the hosier's loom, and placed him in the office of Messrs. Coldham 
& Enfield, town clerk and attorneys of Nottingham, some time in 



522 SELF-MADE MEN. 

May, 1799, he being in his fifteenth year at the time. These 
gentlemen required a premium, and, as his parents were too poor 
to pay the sum required, it was agreed that he should serve two 
years before his articles commenced. A few months after this 
arrangement had been entered into, Kirke White wrote to his 
brother in London, saying, "It is now nearly four months since 
I entered into Mr. Coldham's office, and it is with pleasure I can 
assure you that I never yet found any thing disagreeable, but, on 
the contrary, every thing I do seems a pleasure to me, and for a 
very obvious reason — it is a business which I like, a business 
which I chose above all others ; and I have two good-tempered, 
easy masters, but who will, nevertheless, see that their business 
is done in a neat and proper manner." "A man that under- 
stands the law is sure to have business ; and in case I have no 
thoughts — in case, that is, that I do not aspire to hold the honor- 
able place of a barrister, I shall feel sure of gaining a genteel live- 
lihood at the business to which I am articled." In his spare mo- 
ments at home and at the office he devoted his attention to Latin, 
and in ten months was able to read Horace with tolerable facility, 
and had even made some progress in Greek. Mr. Southey, in his 
admirable memoir of Kirke White, gives an astounding account of 
his mental application. Though living with his family, he nearly 
estranged himself from their society. At meals, and during the 
evenings, a book was constantly in his hands ; and as he refused 
to sup with them, to prevent any loss of time, his meal was sent 
to him in his little apartment. Law, Greek, Latin, Italian, Span- 
ish, and Portuguese, chemistry, astronomy, electricity, drawing, 
music, and mechanics, by turns engaged his attention, and, though 
his acquirements in some of these studies were very superficial, 
his proficiency in many of them was far from contemptible. His 
papers on law evince so much industry, that, had that subject 
alone occupied his leisure hours, his diligence would have been 
commendable. He was a tolerable Italian scholar, and in the 
classics he afterward attained reputation ; but of the sciences, 
and of Spanish and Portuguese, his knowledge was not, it may be 
inferred, very great. His ear for music was good, and, although 
he did not give much attention to the art, he could play pleasingly 
on the piano. It is said that he composed the base as he went on, 
which probably means that, like a good many other performers, 
he could do more with one hand than the other. 



HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 523 

A man never devotes himself to intense study without a wor- 
thy object. White was determined to break loose from the fet- 
ters of iron fate, and to be the architect of his own fortunes in 
some high sphere of human usefulness. We have seen, in his 
letter to his brother, that he already aimed at forensic distinc- 
tion, as being preferable to the drudgery of the attorney's office. 
He regarded the law as a pursuit which might end in riches, 
but he had another which he hoped would terminate in honor. 
The Muses had been his companions from earliest childhood, and 
he wooed them now with the devotion of a serious, intelligent 
lover. The literary society of his native town was not extensive, 
but it made up for the paucity of its members by the dignity with 
which they comported themselves. They formed a learned asso- 
ciation, and excluded all rash enthusiasts from the privilege of 
membership. Several times was White refused admission within 
the charmed realms ; but at length the Fates were propitious, and 
he was appointed to the " Chair of Literature." White took his 
revenge by delivering an inauguration address of two hours and 
three quarters in length. 

A magazine, called the " Monthly Preceptor," was shortly aft- 
erward established, which proposed prize themes for young per- 
sons. Kirke White tried his hand with success, and carried off 
several of the prizes. After this he contributed to other period- 
icals. 

It was, as we have said, his hope to become a barrister or ad- 
vocate, and for this purpose he improved every opportunity. But 
a constitutional deafness now began to manifest itself, and sor- 
rowfully he had to admit to his own conscience that the imped- 
iment was fatal to his hopes of distinction. From conscientious 
motives, his thoughts were instantly turned toward the Church. 
His literary companions were all more or less inclined to De- 
ism, and this fact led to inquiries which terminated in full con- 
viction of religious truth. It is instructive, says Sir Harris Nic- 
olas, in his sketch, to learn to w r hat circumstances such a person 
as Kirke White was indebted for the knowledge il which causes 
not to err." This information occurs in a letter from him to a 
Mr. Booth in August, 1801 ; and it also fixes the date of the 
happy change that influenced every thought and every action of 
his future life, which gave the energy of virtue to his exertions, 
soothed the asperities of a temper naturally impetuous and irrita- 



524 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ble, and enabled him, at a period when manhood was full of hope 
and promise, to view the approaches of death with the calmness 
of a philosopher and the resignation of a saint. After thanking 
Mr. Booth for the present of Jones's work on the Trinity, he thus 
describes his religious impressions previous to its perusal, and the 
effect it produced : " Religious polemics, indeed, have seldom 
formed a part of my studies ; though, whenever I happened acci- 
dentally to turn my thoughts to the subject of the Protestant doc- 
trine of the Godhead, and compared it with Arian and Socinian, 
many doubts interfered, and I even began to think that the more 
nicely the subject was investigated, the more perplexed it would 
appear, and was on the point of forming a resolution to go to 
heaven in my own way, without meddling or involving myself in 
the inextricable labyrinth of controversial dispute, when I re- 
ceived and perused this excellent treatise, which finally cleared 
up the mists which my ignorance had conjured around me, and 
clearly pointed out the real truth." From this moment he de- 
voted himself entirely to the services of religion, and determined 
to enter the ministry, if that happy promotion could be achieved. 
His friends were, of course, opposed to any change in his profes- 
sion, believing, as they had every reason to believe, that he would 
attain distinction in the law. But he was deaf to their remon- 
strances, and firm in his resolution to dedicate the rest of his life 
to the Church. The first thing that was absolutely necessary 
was to procure means to proceed to the University. For this 
purpose he ventured on the hazardous experiment of preparing 
a volume of poems for the press, the sale of which, he hoped, 
would place him in the possession of funds. Like all young 
authors of that time, he needed a patron or patroness to whom 
the book might be dedicated. He applied to the Countess of 
Derby, who declined on the ground that she never accepted a 
compliment of that character. Her ladyship probably looked on 
literature as a low, vulgar thing, beneath her consideration. He 
then addressed the Duchess of Devonshire, and a letter, with 
the manuscript, was left at her house. After a number of dis- 
heartening delays the required permission was granted, and the 
book came out in 1803. It is curious to know that, although a 
copy was transmitted to the duchess, she paid no attention to 
it, and neither rewarded the author with its price in kindness or 
money. The author was naturally nervous about his first pro- 



HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 525 

duction, and sent imploring letters to the Reviewers, depreciating 
his own effort, and bespeaking a little kindliness. It is unneces- 
sary to add that this step was ill-judged and useless. It is no 
part of a Reviewer's duty to consult the feelings, be they modest 
or otherwise, of an author. The Monthly Review pitched into the 
young poet, and selected some of the worst lines to strengthen 
its position that the book did not justify any sanguine expecta- 
tions. White was sorely distressed by this article, and writing 
to a friend said, " I am at present under afflictions and conten- 
tions of spirit heavier than I ever yet experienced. I think at 
times I am mad, and destitute of religion ; my pride is not yet 
subdued ; the unfavorable review (the ' Monthly') of my unhap- 
py work has cut deeper than you could have thought, not in a 
literary point of view, but as it affects my respectability. It rep- 
resents me actually as a beggar, going about gathering money to 
put myself at college, when my book is worthless, and this with 
every appearance of candor. They have been sadly misinformed 
respecting me ; this Review goes before me wherever I turn my 
steps ; it haunts me incessantly, and I am persuaded it is an in- 
strument in the hands of Satan to drive me to distraction. I 
must leave Nottingham. If the answer of the Elland Society be 
unfavorable, I purpose writing to the Marquis of Wellesley, to 
offer myself as a student at the academy he has instituted at Fort 
William, in Bengal, and at the proper age to take orders there. 
The missionaries at that place have done wonders already ; and I 
should, I hope, be a valuable laborer in the vineyard. If the mar- 
quis take no notice of my application, or do not accede to my 
proposal, I shall place myself in some other way of making a 
meet preparation for the holy office, either in the Calvinistic Acad- 
emy, or in one of the Scotch universities, where I shall be able to 
live at scarcely any expense." The criticism referred to was un- 
just as it was ungenerous, and elicited from Mr. Southey, the 
poet, an encouraging letter, expressing his opinion of the merits 
of the book, and giving him some kind and timely advice. With 
the approbation of a man so distinguished, White thought no more 
of the Reviewer. " I dare not say all I feel respecting your opin- 
ion of my little volume," he wrote in reply. " The extreme acri- 
mony with which the Monthly Review (of all others the most im- 
portant) treated me, threw me into a state of stupefaction. I re- 
garded all that had passed as a dream, and I thought I had been 



526 SELF-MADE MEN. 

deluding myself into an idea of possessing poetic genius, when, in 
fact, I had only the longing, without the afflatus. I mustered res- 
olution enough, however, to write spiritedly to them ; their an- 
swer, in the ensuing number, was a tacit acknowledgment that 
they had been somewhat too unsparing in their correction. It 
was a poor attempt to salve over a wound wantonly and ungen- 
erously inflicted. Still I was damped, because I knew the work 
was very respectable, and therefore could not, I concluded, give a 
criticism grossly deficient in equity, the more especially as I knew 
of no sort of inducement to extraordinary severity. Your letter, 
however, has revived me, and I do again venture to hope that I 
may still produce something which will survive me. With regard 
to your advice and offers of assistance, I will not attempt, because 
I am unable, to thank you for them. To-morrow morning I 
depart for Cambridge ; and I have considerable hopes that, as I 
do not enter into the University with any sinister or interested 
views, but sincerely desire to perform the duties of an affection- 
ate and vigilant pastor, and become more useful to mankind — I 
therefore have hopes, I say, that I shall find means of support in 
the University ; if I do not, I shall certainly act in pursuance of 
your recommendations, and shall, without hesitation, avail myself 
of your offers of service and of your directions. In a short time 
this will be determined, and when it is, I shall take the liberty of 
writing to you at Keswick, to make you acquainted with the re- 
sult." 

By the united efforts of his friends 3 White was presented with 
a sizarship at St. John's College, Cambridge. On the 10th of 
April, 1804, he expressed his gratification at this event in the fol- 
lowing devout strain : " Most fervently do I return thanks to God 
for this providential opening : it has breathed new animation into 
me, and my breast expands with the prospect of becoming the 
minister of Christ where I most desired it, but where I almost 
feared all probability of success was nearly at an end. * * * I re- 
turn thanks to God for keeping me so long in suspense, for I 
know it has been beneficial to my soul, and I feel a considerable 
trust that the way is now about to be made clear, and that my 
doubts and fears on this head will in due time be removed." As 
a preparation for the college course, White placed himself with a 
private tutor for a year, and, while under that gentleman's care, 
he studied with such indiscreet fervor that fears were excited not 



HENKY KIRKE WHITE. 527 

for his health only, but for his intellect. On a former occasion 
he had brought on a severe attack of illness in the same way, and 
a similar penalty awaited him now. "I fear," he wrote, "my 
good genius, who was wont to visit me with nightly visions in 
woods and brakes, and by the river's marge, is now dying of a 
fen ague, and I shall thus, probably, emerge from my retreat, 
not a hair-brained son of imagination, but a sedate, black-letter- 
ed bookworm, with a head like an etymologicon magnum." He 
recovered after a while, and applied himself with great assidu- 
ity to the study of theology. In October, 1805, Kirke White 
became a resident member of St. John's College, Cambridge, and 
was soon distinguished for his classical knowledge ; but it was at 
a fearful sacrifice. By neglecting to provide for the healthful re- 
quirements of the body, he had so enfeebled it that the seeds of 
disease took easy root, and now, while on the threshold of fame, 
he found his footsteps totter and his mind grow numb. He was 
told that the only chance of prolonging his life was to fly to a 
milder climate, and abandon study altogether. Such advice was 
not likely to be valued by one who looked on fame as dearer than 
existence, and was willing to perish so long as he perished at the 
wheel. He continued his pursuits unintimidated by the warn- 
ings of his friends. During the first term he became a candidate 
for one of the University scholarships, but the increased exertion 
he underwent was attended by results that obliged him to retire 
from the contest. " At this moment," says his biographer, " the 
general college examination approached, and thinking that, if he 
failed, his hopes would be blasted forever, he taxed his energies to 
the utmost, during the fortnight which intervened, to meet the 
trial. He became so sick in consequence that he was considered 
unable to go to the hall to be examined. His tutor, Mr. Catton, 
touched by the tears of his pupil, urged him to use stimulants 
during the six days of the examination. He did so, and was pro- 
nounced the first man of his year. Soon after this event he went 
to London for relaxation, was received cordially in literary cir- 
cles, and returned to Cambridge in improved health. Unwarned 
by the past, he plunged into his old habits of study, and, as a 
necessary consequence, had a relapse. In a letter to a friend he 
describes his condition : " I have had a recurrence of my old com- 
plaint within this last four or five days, which has quite unnerved 
me for every thing. The state of my health is really miserable. 



528 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



I am well and lively in the morning, and overwhelmed with nerv- 
ous horrors in the evening. I do not know how to proceed with 
regard to my studies. A very slight overstretch of the mind in 
the daytime occasions me not only a sleepless night, but a night 
of gloom and horror. The systole and diastole of my heart seem 
to be playing at ball — the stake my life. I can only say the game 
is not yet decided ; I allude to the violence of the palpitation. I 
am going to mount the Gog-Magog Hills this morning in quest 
of a good night's sleep. The Gog-Magog Hills for my body, and 
the Bible for my mind, are my only medicines. I am sorry to 
say that neither are quite adequate." He rallied again, but seems 
to have been aware that his end was not far distant, and determ- 
ined to spend the next vacation at Nottingham. In April he 
proceeded to that town, and on the 7th wrote a very melancholy 
account of himself: "It seems determined upon by my mother 
that I can not be spared, since the time of my stay is so very 
short, and my health so very uncertain. The people here can 
scarcely be persuaded that any thing ails me, so well do I look ; 
but occasional depressions, especially after any thing has occurred 
to occasion uneasiness, still harass me. My mind is of a very 
peculiar cast. I began to think too early ; and the indulgence of 
certain trains of thought, and too free an exercise of the imagina- 
tion, have superinduced a morbid kind of sensibility, which is to 
the mind what excessive irritability is to the body. Some cir- 
cumstances occurred on my arrival. at Nottingham which gave 
me just cause for inquietude and anxiety ; the consequences were 
insomnia, and a relapse into causeless dejections. It is my busi- 
ness now to curb these irrational and immoderate affections, and, 
by accustoming myself to sober thought and cool reasoning, to re- 
strain these freaks and vagaries of the fancy. When I am well I 
can not help entertaining a sort of contempt for the weakness of 
mind which marks my indispositions. Titus when well, and Ti- 
tus when ill, are two distinct persons. The man when in health 
despises the man when ill for his weakness, and the latter envies 
the former for his felicity." On his return to college his pros- 
pects seemed to brighten in every thing save health. He was 
again pronounced first at the great examination ; he was one of 
the three best theme-writers, whose merits were so nearly equal 
that the examiners could not decide between them ; and he was 
a prizeman both in the mathematical and logical or general exam- 



HENRY KIRKE WHITE. 529 

ination, and in Latin composition. His college offered him a pri- 
vate tutor free of expense, and Mr. Catton obtained exhibitions 
for him to the value of sixty-one pounds per annum, by which he 
was enabled to give up the pecuniary assistance he had received 
from his friends. The highest honors of the University were 
within his grasp, but it was ordained that death should stay his 
hand. In July he was seized with an attack which threatened 
his life, but from this he recovered. In September he went to 
London on a visit to his brother, but returned to college in a few 
weeks, in a state that precluded all chance of prolonging his exist- 
ence. Toward the middle of the month (October, 1806), a friend 
informed his brother of his actual state. He hastened to him, 
but when he arrived he was delirious, and, although reason re- 
turned for a short time, he sunk into a low state, and on Sunday, 
the 19th, quietly expired. He was in his twenty-second year at 
the time of the unhappy event. 

In whatever light, says Sir Harris Nicolas, the character of 
this unhappy youth be contemplated, it is full of instruction. His 
talents were unusually precocious, and their variety was as aston- 
ishing as their extent. Besides the poetical pieces which have 
given his name a lasting interest to English literature, and his 
scholastic attainments, his ability was manifested in various other 
ways. His style was remarkable for its clearness and elegance, 
and his correspondence and prose pieces show extensive informa- 
tion. To great genius and capacity he united the rarest and 
more important gifts of sound judgment and common sense. It 
is usually the misfortune of genius to invest ordinary objects with 
a meretricious coloring that perverts their forms and purposes, to 
make its possessor imagine that it exempts him from attending to 
those strict rules of moral conduct to which others are bound to 
adhere, and to render him neglectful of the sacred assurance that 
"to whom much is given from him will much be required." 
Nature, in Kirke White's case, appears, on the contrary, to have 
determined that she would, in one instance at least, prove that 
high intellectual attainments are strictly compatible with every 
social and moral virtue. At a very early period of his life religion 
became the predominant feeling of his mind, and she imparted her 
sober and chastened effects to all his thoughts and actions. The 
cherished object of every member of his family, he repaid their 
affection by the most anxious solicitude for their welfare, offering 

Z 



530 SELF-MADE MEN. 

his advice on spiritual affairs with impressive earnestness, and 
indicating, in every letter of his voluminous correspondence, the 
greatest consideration for their feelings and happiness. For the 
last six years he deemed himself marked out for the service of his 
Maker — not like the member of a convent, whose duties consist 
only in prayer, but in the exercise of that philanthropy and prac- 
tical benevolence which ought to adorn every parish priest. To 
qualify himself properly for the holy office, he subjected his mind 
to the severest discipline ; and his letters display a rational piety 
and an enlightened view of religious obligations which is even 
superior to the fervor of his poetical pieces. 

Kirke White's sacred poetry is extensively known, and, being 
the best of its kind, will preserve a place in English literature. 
Its great merits are the feeling and natural pathos with which the 
author writes. He speaks directly from his heart so simply that 
all who have hearts must be touched. His command of language 
is copious, but he lacks imagination and metaphorical color. He 
is pathetic, plaintive, and agreeable, and recalls associations which 
most people have experienced and like to have recalled. That he 
touched a tuneful chord in the human breast is evidenced by the 
fact that his works have gone through many hundred editions, 
and are, perhaps, better read than any contemporary poet. 

Kirke White was buried in the church of " All Saints," Cam- 
bridge, and a tablet was erected to his memory by Mr. Francis 
Boot, of Boston, a liberal-minded American gentleman. The tab- 
let has a medallion by Chantrey, and an inscription by Professor 
Smyth, of which the following is a copy : 

"Warm'd with fond hope and learning's sacred flame, 
To Granta's bowers the youthful poet came ; 
Unconquer'd powers the immortal mind display'd, 
But, worn with anxious thought, the frame decay'd : 
Pale o'er his lamp, and in his cell retired, 
The martyr-student faded and expired. 
Oh ! genius, taste, and piety sincere, 
Too early lost 'midst studies too severe ! 
Foremost to mourn was generous Southey seen ; 
He told the tale, and show'd what White had been : 
Nor told in vain ; for o'er the Atlantic wave 
A wanderer came, and sought the poet's grave ; 
On yon lone stone he saw his lonely name, 
And raised this fond memorial to his fame." 




JAMES WATT. 

James Watt, the world's most illustrious mechanic, was born 
at Greenock, Scotland, on the 19th of January, 1736. His father 
enjoyed a good social position, and was held in high esteem by his 
fellow-townsmen, having been appointed one of the magistrates of 
the town. The subject of our memoir received the rudiments of 
his education in his native place, the delicacy of his health prohib- 
iting a resort to other and more distant academies. The natural 
studiousness of his disposition was perhaps increased by this weak- 
liness. Reading supplied the place of rougher and less serviceable 
exercises. So tenacious was his memory, that at a very early age 
he was well informed on many subjects of a scientific character, 
especially those branches which were connected more or less with 
mechanics. Except that he was a quiet, amiable, studious youth, 
we know nothing of any particular importance concerning the 
early years of his life. At the age of eighteen he was sent to 
London to be apprenticed to a maker of mathematical instru- 
ments, but, in little more than a year, the feebleness of his 
health compelled him to abandon this profession and return to 



532 SELF-MADE MEN. 

his home. He appears to have had a liking for the business, 
however, and probably practiced it until he felt that he knew 
enough to start for himself. This he did at Glasgow in 1757, 
and was appointed mathematical instrument maker to the college. 
He retained this situation for many years, and was able greatly 
to improve himself in every department of knowledge. One of 
his principal occupations was the repairing of the scientific appa- 
ratus of the college. The dexterity with which he did this, and 
the amount of knowledge he possessed on most mechanical sub- 
jects, brought him into friendly contact with the various profess- 
ors. They met in his little room, and discussed subjects of nat- 
ural philosophy, and no doubt theorized largely on all the leading 
topics of the day. One of young Watt's most frequent visitors 
was Mr. (afterward Dr.) Robison, who at that time was specu- 
lating on the possibility of applying steam as a motive power to 
wheel carriages. Watt had himself made some experiments on 
the elasticity of steam, assured that vast forces were yet to be 
secured from it. The steam-engine was then but slightly known, 
and, owing to its many imperfections, still more slightly used. 
Some recent improvements made by Newcomen only served to 
indicate what might be accomplished. While the two friends 
were discussing the matter, a model was sent in to be repaired by 
the professor of natural philosophy. On examination, it proved 
to be a miniature copy of Newcomen's improved engine. This 
treasure was eagerly examined by Watt, and criticised with tech- 
nical exactitude. In a very little while he discovered the reason 
why the model would not work, and at the same time saw that, 
however admirably it might perform its functions, it was still an 
imperfect machine. With the view of remedying its defects, he 
commenced an extensive series of experiments. The boiler and 
the generation of steam were the first objects of his attention. 
He was soon rewarded with many valuable discoveries. The 
rapidity with which water evaporates, he found, depended on cer- 
tain causes which were before unknown to him. He also ascer- 
tained the quantity of coals necessary for the evaporation of any 
given quantity of water ; the heat at which water boils under 
various pressures, and many other particulars of a similar kind, 
many of which had never before been determined. When he had 
disposed of these questions, he turned his attention to the cylin- 
der, which he declared to be radically defective. In Newcomen's 



JAMES WATT. 533 

engine, it had to be cooled after every stroke of the piston, in order 
to condense the waste steam. This was effected in an ingenious 
way, by the injection of a small jet of cold water into the cylinder, 
but it occasioned a great waste of power and an extravagant ex- 
penditure of fuel. If, argued Watt, the cylinder, instead of being 
thus cooled for every stroke of the piston, could be kept perma- 
nently hot, a fourth part of the heat which had been hitherto ap- 
plied would be found sufficient. The question now was how this 
desirable object could be accomplished. It was his constant theme, 
walking, sleeping, dreaming. All the faculties of his suggestive 
mind were directed to the solution of the great and important 
problem. After brooding over it for some time, he abandoned 
the idea of getting rid of the waste steam in the vessel where it 
had been nsed ; he could discover no possible way of doing so in 
a complete and thorough manner. The next question was how 
to dispose of it. At last it occurred to him that it might be pos- 
sible to draw it off into another vessel, and so got rid of without 
inconvenience. This happy idea was the first step toward the 
vast improvements which he afterward made. In the course of 
one or two days, according to his own account, he had all the 
apparatus arranged in his own mind. The plan was extremely 
simple, and on that account more practicable and valuable. He 
proposed to establish a communication by an open pipe between 
the cylinder and another vessel, the consequence of which evident- 
ly would be, that when the steam was admitted into the former, 
it would flow into the latter, so as to fill it also. If, then, the 
portion in this latter vessel only should be subjected to a con- 
densing process by being brought into contact with cold water, 
or any other convenient means, what would follow? Why, a 
vacuum would be produced, into which more steam would imme- 
diately rush from the cylinder ; that likewise would be condensed, 
and so the process would go on till all the steam had left the cylin- 
der. In this way, the main cylinder would be kept nearly at an 
equal temperature. When these views were tested by experiment, 
the result was found to answer Watt's most sanguine expectations. 
A great saving of fuel and a vast increase of power were effected. 
But the genius of the inventor had many serious obstacles to over- 
come. One of these was the difficulty of making the cylinder air- 
tight. In the old engines, this was effected by covering the top 
with water, the dripping down of which into the space below, 



534 SELF-MADE MEN. 

where it merely assisted condensation, was of little importance, 
but, now that the condensation was carried on in a separate ves- 
sel, it became highly necessary to prevent any thing entering the 
cylinder except the virgin steam. The admission of air tended to 
cool the cylinder, especially in the lower parts, while Watt's great 
object was to keep it dry and warm, and at an equal temperature 
throughout. It must be remembered, also, that at this time the 
top of the cylinder was entirely open ; a column of steam thrust 
up the piston, and the weight of the atmosphere thrust it down 
again. It now occurred to Mr. Watt that the proper way to effect 
the object he had in view was to completely close the cylinder, 
leaving only room for the piston-rod to work up and down. The 
hole necessary for this purpose was padded with hemp and satu- 
rated with oil, so that the natural adhesion of atmospheric air to 
the piston-rod was wiped away in its descent downward. The 
next thing was to provide a compensating power for the atmos- 
pheric air, whose downward pressure had hitherto been essential 
to the action of the engine. This he accomplished by introducing 
a column of steam in the top of the cylinder, so that when the 
piston had been pressed up by the column from below, it was 
pressed down again by the column from above, and thus main- 
tained the regularity of its motions by a double-acting steam power. 
Some minor improvements were afterward added, but what we 
have described were the radical features of Mr. Watt's first and 
great reform. The strength, precision, velocity, and controllability 
of the steam-engine were by these great inventions rendered of 
practical benefit to the human race. It came into his hands a 
toy ; it left them a mighty instrument of beneficent Progress. 

The subsequent improvements made by Watt were equally val- 
uable and astonishing. Like a mighty lion-tamer, he seemed to 
delight in exhibiting the docility of the brute force he had sub- 
dued. "In the present perfect state of the engine," says Dr. Ar- 
nott, in his Elements of Physics, "it appears a thing almost en- 
dowed with intelligence. It regulates with perfect accuracy and 
uniformity the number of its strokes in a given time, counting, or 
recording them, moreover, to tell how much work it has done, as 
a clock records the beats of its pendulum. It regulates the quan- 
tity of steam admitted to work ; the briskness of the fire ; the sup- 
ply of water to the boiler ; the supply of coals to the fire ; it opens 
and shuts its valves with absolute precision as to time and manner ; 



JAMES WATT. 535 

it oils its joints; it takes out any air which may accidentally enter 
into parts which should be vacuous ; and, when any thing goes 
wrong which it can not of itself rectify, it warns its attendants by 
ringing a bell. Yet, with all these talents and qualities, and even 
when exerting the power of six hundred horses, it is obedient to 
the hand of a child. Its aliment is coal, wood, charcoal, or other 
combustible ; it consumes none while idle ; it never tires, and 
wants no sleep ; it is not subject to malady when originally well 
made, and only refuses to work when worn out with old age ; it 
is equally active in all climates, and will do work of any kind ; 
it is a water-pumper, a miner, a sailor, a cotton-spinner, a weav- 
er, a blacksmith, a miller, etc., etc. ; and a small engine in the 
character of a steam pony may be seen dragging after it on a rail- 
road a hundred tons of merchandise, or a regiment of soldiers, 
with greater speed than that of our fleetest coaches. It is the 
king of machines, and a permanent realization of the genii of East- 
ern fable, whose supernatural powers were occasionally at the 
command of man." 

"Watt did not escape the usual experience of inventors, or what 
Mr. Wilkins Micawber playfully describes as " the pressure of pe- 
cuniary liabilities." His own means were limited, and, in order 
to prosecute many of his experiments, he had to obtain the as- 
sistance of friends. If Dr. Roebuck was one of these, he certainly 
was a very greedy friend, for he made advances on the hard con- 
ditions that two thirds of the profits should be made over to him. 
Watt's first patent was obtained on these terms (1769). An en- 
gine was immediately afterward erected at the doctor's works. 
It was found to answer tolerably well, but various alterations 
were needed, and, consequently, a fresh advance of funds was nee-, 
essary. However willing Dr. Eoebuck may have been to assist 
Watt on the two-thirds principle, he was now unable to do so. 
He found himself involved in his business, and completely inca- 
pable of making farther advances. For nearly five years Watt 
abandoned the prosecution of his various plans, and sought a liv- 
ing by pursuing the profession of civil engineer. He seems to 
have waited in expectation of Dr. Roebuck's coming prosperity ; 
but, finding that this was rather a slow process, he resolved to 
close with a proposal which had boon made to him through his 
friend, Dr. Small, of Birmingham, that he should remove to that 
town, and enter into partnership with the eminent hardware man- 



536 SELF-MADE MEN. 

ufacturer, Mr. Bolton, of the Soho Works. In a short time an ar- 
rangement was made with Dr. Roebuck, and Watt took his de- 
parture for what was destined to be the scene of all his future 
triumphs. The new firm of Bolton & Watt commenced the man- 
ufacture of steam-engines in the year 1775, and immediately erect- 
ed a specimen machine on their premises, to which they invited 
the attention of all persons interested in, or likely to be benefited 
by the patent. " They then proposed to erect similar engines 
wherever required, on the very liberal principle of receiving, as 
payment for each, only one third of the saving in fuel which it 
should effect, as compared with one of the old construction." 
Small as this compensation appeared to be, it soon amounted to 
an enormous revenue, and at last excited the cupidity of other 
manufacturers, who tried to infringe the patents (of which Watt 
& Bolton had several), and, of course, to evade payment to the pat- 
entees. Six or seven years were spent in litigation, during which 
time all sorts of attempts were made to snatch the laurels from 
Watt's brow, but without avail. In 1799, a unanimous decision 
of all the judges of the Court of King's Bench established the va- 
lidity of his claims, and thus disposed of opposition forever. 

Watt's inventive genius found occupation in many other ways 
beside the perfecting of the steam-engine. An apparatus for cop- 
ying letters, now in common use ; a method of heating houses by 
steam ; a new composition for the purposes of sculpture, having 
the transparency and nearly the hardness of marble ; a machine 
for multiplying copies of busts and other works in carving and 
statuary, are enumerated among his minor inventions. 

In 1800 Mr. Watt withdrew from business, and, although con- 
stantly in feeble health, enjoyed nineteen years of domestic fe- 
licity in the bosom of his family. He died on the 25th of Au- 
gust, 1819, highly respected by all who knew him, and honored to 
the present day as one of England's greatest benefactors. During 
his career he received frequent testimonials of esteem from the 
learned societies of Europe. In 1784 he was elected a fellow of 
the Royal Society of Edinburgh ; in 1785, a member of the Royal 
Society of London ; in 1787, a corresponding member of the Ba- 
tavian Society; in 1806 he received from Glasgow the degree of 
Doctor of Laws ; and in 1808 he was elected, first, a correspond- 
ing member, and afterward an associate of the Institution of 
France. 



JAMES WATT, 537 

Mr. Watt was in the strictest sense a cultivated man. Tliere 
was hardly a physical science or an art with which he was not 
pretty intimately acquainted. He was familiar with several mod- 
ern languages, and well read in literature. " Perhaps no indi- 
vidual in his age," says Mr. Jeffrey, " possessed so much, and such 
varied and exact information ; had read so much, or remembered 
what he had read so accurately and well. He had infinite quick- 
ness of apprehension, a prodigious memory, and a certain recti- 
fying and methodizing power of understanding, which extracted 
something precious out of all that was presented to it. His stores 
of miscellaneous knowledge were immense, and yet less astonish- 
ing than the command he had at all times over them. It seemed 
as if every subject that was casually started in conversation had 
been that" which he had been last occupied in studying and ex- 
hausting, such was the copiousness, the precision, and the admi- 
rable clearness of the information which he poured out upon it 
without effort or hesitation. Nor was this promptitude and com- 
pass of knowledge confined in any degree to the studies connected 
with his ordinary pursuits. That he should have been minutely 
and extensively skilled in chemistry and the arts, and in most of 
the branches of physical science, might, perhaps, have been con- 
jectured ; but it could not have been inferred from his usual oc- 
cupations, and probably is not generally known, that he was cu- 
riously learned in many branches of antiquity, metaphysics, med- 
icine, and etymology, and perfectly at home in all the details of 
architecture, music, and law." 

Z2 




WILLIAM COB.BETT. 

One of the most remarkable self-made men that England can 
boast is William Cobbett, the subject of the present sketch. From 
the author's own voluminous writings we are able to gather most 
of the materials of his eventful life, especially from that entertain- 
ing work, the Life of Peter Porcupine. It is unfortunate, however, 
that Mr. Cobbett never thought it worth while to dwell minutely 
on the early incidents of his life, and our information on that in- 
teresting era is necessarily imperfect and broken. We will en- 
deavor to string together what we can in the author's own words. 

William Cobbett was born in the town of Farnham, Surrey, 
England, in the spring of the year 1762. His father was a small 
tenant farmer, of very limited education and humble means, but 
he was considered learned for a man in his rank of life. He un- 
derstood land-surveying well, and was often chosen to draw the 
plans of disputed territory, and, being honest, industrious, and 
frugal, was a man of consideration among his neighbors. 

William says that he does not remember the time when he did 
not earn his own living. His first occupation was driving the 



WILLIAM COBBETT. 539 

small birds from the turnip-seed, and the rooks from the peas. 
His next employment was weeding wheat, and leading a single 
horse at harrowing barley. Hoeing peas followed, and thence he 
arrived at the honor of joining the reapers in the harvest, driving 
the team, and holding the plow. All the family were strong and 
laborious, and the father used to boast that he had four sons, the 
eldest of whom was but fifteen years old, who did as much work 
as any three men in the parish of Farnham. William says that 
he had some faint recollection of going to school to an old woman, 
who, he fancies, did not succeed in the arduous undertaking of 
teaching him his alphabet. In the winter evenings, however, his 
father taught him to read and write, and gave him some instruc- 
tion in arithmetic and grammar. 

From his infancy Cobbett displayed great fondness for rural 
occupations, which he describes as " healthy, rational, and heart- 
cheering pursuits, in which every day presents something new, in 
which the spirits are never suffered to flag, and in which industry, 
skill, and care are sure to meet with their due reward ;" to which 
he adds, " I have never, for any eight months together, during my 
whole life, been without a garden." Under the influence of this 
healthful passion, he left home at the age of eleven with the de- 
termination of seeing Kew Gardens, of which he had heard r o 
much that he could not rest. He describes the incident admira- 
bly. "At eleven years of age my employment was clipping of 
box edgings and weeding beds of flowers in the garden of the 
Bishop of Winchester at the Castle of Farnham. I had always 
been fond of beautiful flowers, and a gardener, who had just come 
from the king's gardens at Kew, gave such a description of them 
as made me instantly resolve to work in these gardens. The 
next morning, without saying a word to any one, off I set, with 
no clothes except those upon my back, and with thirteen halfpence 
in my pocket. I found that I must go to Eichmond, and I accord- 
ingly went from place to place, inquiring my way thither. A long 
day — it was in June — brought me to Richmond in the afternoon. 
Two pennyworth of bread and cheese, and a pennyworth of small 
beer which I had on the road, and a halfpenny which I had lost 
somehow or other, left threepence in my pocket. With this for 
my whole fortune, I was trudging through Richmond in my blue 
smock frock, and my red gaiters tied under my knees, when, staring 
about me, my eye fell upon a little book in a bookseller's window, 



540 SELF-MADE MEN. 

on the outside of which was written, 'Tale of a Tub; price 3d' 
The title was so odd that my curiosity was excited. I had the 
threepence, but then I could have no supper. In I went and got 
the little book, which I was so impatient to read that I got over 
into a field at the upper corner of Kew Garden, where there stood 
a haystack. On the shady side of this I sat down to read. The 
book was so different from any thing that I had read before — it 
was something so new to my mind, that, though I could not at all 
understand some of it, it delighted me beyond description, and it 
produced what I have always considered a birth of intellect. I 
read on till it was dark, without any thought of supper or bed. 
When I could see no longer, I put my little book in my pocket, 
and tumbled down by the side of the stack, where I slept till the 
birds in Kew Gardens awaked me in the morning, when off I 
started to Kew, reading my little book. The singularity of my 
dress, the simplicity of my manner, my confident and lively air, 
and, doubtless, his own compassion besides, induced the gardener, 
who was a Scotchman, to give me victuals, find me a lodging, and 
set me to work." It is not known how long he remained at Kew. 
We lose sight of him until 1782, when, having gone to visit a re- 
lation who lived in the neighborhood of Portsmouth, he first be- 
held the sea. Every young lad falls in love with that element, 
and Cobbett was no exception to the rule. He saw the English 
fleet riding at anchor, and his heart expanded with national pride. 
The next morning he walked down to the beach, got into a boat, 
and in a few minutes was on board the Pegasus man-of-war. 
Here he endeavored to enlist in the naval service, but without 
success. The captain advised him to go home, but he was not so 
easily dissuaded. He made an attempt to get his name enrolled 
in another vessel, but here again the captain advised him to go 
home. Very reluctantly he did so ; but his peace of mind was 
. gone. He dreamed of the sea, and of traveling round the world. 
Farnham — even England — became too small for him. He de- 
termined to escape. Accordingly, on the 6th of May, 1783, he 
sallied forth to seek adventures. " I was dressed in my holiday 
clothes, in order to accompany two or three lasses to Guildford 
Fair. They were to assemble at a house about three miles from 
my home, where I was to attend them ; but, unfortunately for me, 
I had to cross the London turnpike-road. The stage-coach had 
just turned the summit of a hill, and was rattling down toward 



WILLIAM COBBETT. 541 

ine at a merry rate. The notion of going to London never entered 
my mind till this very moment, yet the step was completely de- 
termined on before the coach came to the spot where I stood. 
Up I got, and was in London about nine o'clock in the evening. 
It was by mere accident that I had money enough to defray the 
expenses of this day. Being rigged out for the fair, I had three 
or four crown and half crown pieces (which most certainly I did 
not intend to spend), besides a few shillings and halfpence. This, 
my little all, which I had been years in amassing, melted away 
like snow before the sun when touched by the fingers of the inn- 
keepers and their waiters. In short, when I arrived at Ludgate 
Hill, and had paid my fare, I had but about half a crown in my 
pocket." Fortunately, he had succeeded in making the acquaint- 
ance of a passenger — a hop merchant from Southwark — who knew 
his father, and who was disposed to lend a helping hand to the 
young man. He invited him to his house, which he told him he 
might look upon as his home till something turned up. In the 
mean time he wrote to his father, advising him of what had taken 
place. The latter desired Cobbett to return immediately, but a 
mistaken sense of false delicacy prevented his doing so. At length 
a situation as copying clerk in a lawyer's office was obtained for 
him, and for nearly a year he went through the wretched drudgery 
of that occupation — the only portion of his life, he says, which was 
" totally unattended with pleasure." It is not easy to escape from 
a lawyer's office into a higher sphere of usefulness, and to this cir- 
cumstance we may perhaps attribute Cobbett's lengthened experi- 
ment in the gloom and wretchedness of the law. One fine spring 
morning in 1784, while strolling through St. James's Park, to 
cheer himself " with the sight of the trees, the grass, and the 
water," he read an advertisement inviting all loyal young men to 
serve their country, and reap honor and riches in that patriotic 
undertaking. Any life was welcome to Cobbett, provided it did 
not revolve on the high stool of an attorney's office. Without 
troubling himself about inquiries, he took the king's shilling, and 
became a private in the 54th regiment. He remained about a 
year at Chatham, during which time he learned his duties thor- 
oughly, and occupied his leisure in reading and study. Lie says 
that during this year he learned more than he had ever done be- 
fore. "Whatever books came in his way (and he subscribed to a 
circulating library) he read with avidity, but, it is to be feared, 



542 SELF-MADE MEN. 

with little profit. Knowledge is not gained by skimming over 
the gilded surface of novels, dramas, poems, etc. One branch of 
knowledge, however, he searched to the bottom — the grammar of 
his mother tongue. Cobbett procured a copy of Lowth's Gram- 
mar, and applied himself to the study of it with unceasing assi- 
duity. It was a considerable time before he could comprehend 
all that he read, but the light shone in upon him at last. " The 
pains I took," he says, " can not be described. I wrote the whole 
grammar out two or three times. I got it by heart. I repeated 
it every morning and every evening, and when on guard. I im- 
posed on myself the task of saying it all over once every time I 
was posted sentinel. To this exercise of my memory I ascribe 
the retentiousness of which I have since found it capable ; and to 
the success with which it was attended, I ascribe the perseverance 
that has led to the acquirement of the little learning of which I 
am master." 

A few months after his enlistment, the detachment to which he 
belonged sailed for Halifax, Nova Scotia, previous to which he had 
been promoted to the rank of corporal. From Nova Scotia he 
proceeded with his regiment to St. John's and New Brunswick. 
By the end of his third year in the army he was promoted to the 
rank of sergeant major over the heads of thirty sergeants — no 
slight compliment to his abilities and attention. He refers to this 
period of his life : " Before my promotion a clerk was wanted to 
make out the morning report of the regiment. I rendered the 
clerk unnecessary ; and, long before any other man was dressed 
for the parade, my work for the morning was all done, and I my- 
self was on the parade, walking, in fine weather, perhaps for an 
hour. My custom was thus : to get up, in summer, at daylight, 
and in winter at four o'clock ; shave, dress, even to the putting 
on my sword-belt over my shoulder, and having my sword lying 
on the table before me ready to hang by my side. Then I ate a 
bit of cheese, or pork and bread. Then I prepared my report, 
which was filled up as fast as the companies brought me in the 
materials. After this I had an hour or two to read before the 
time came for my duty out of doors, unless when the regiment or 
part of it went to exercise in the morning." 

While at New Brunswick Cobbett made the acquaintance of 
his future wife. She was then but thirteen years of age, and his 
attention was directed to her by seeing her, one frosty morning at 



WILLIAM COBBETT 543 

daybreak, scouring out the washing-tub before her father's door. 
" That's the girl for me," said Cobbett to his companions. " From 
the day that I first spoke to her, I never had a thought of her ever 
being the wife of any other man more than I had a thought of 
her being transformed into a chest of drawers ; and I formed my 
resolution at once to marry her as soon as we could get permis- 
sion, and to get out of the army as soon as I could ; so that this 
matter was at once settled as firmly as if written in the book of 
Fate." About six months after arriving at this determination the 
object of his affection left for England ; and "now it was," says 
Cobbett, " that I acted a part becoming a real and sensible lover. 
I was aware that when she got to that gay place, Woolwich (her 
father was in the artillery), the house of her father and mother, 
necessarily visited by numerous persons not the most select, might 
become unpleasant to her, and I did not like, besides, that she 
should continue to work hard. I had saved 150 guineas, the 
earnings of my early hours in writing for the paymaster, the quar- 
ter-master, and others, in addition to the savings of my own pay. 
I sent her all my money before she sailed, and wrote to her to 
beg of her, if she found her home uncomfortable, to hire a lodging 
with respectable people ; and, at any rate, not to spare the money 
by any means, but to buy herself good clothes, and to live with- 
out hard work until I arrived in England." 

Owing to a difficulty with Spain, Cobbett was unable to get his 
discharge for four years. At the end of that time he landed at 
Portsmouth, and immediately set out in search of his lady-love. 
He found her working very hard in a private family as a servant- 
of- all -work. As soon as the greetings were over (that is to say, 
over for a moment or two), the dear little girl ran to her box and 
produced the 150 guineas untouched. In a few months they were 
man and wife, and ten years later he wrote that to " her gentle- 
ness, prudence, and fortitude I owe whatever I enjoy of pleasure, 
of fortune, or of reputation." Immediately after the honeymoon 
(March, 1792) he made a trip to France, where he remained for 
six months. It was his intention to have staid longer, but the 
events of the Revolution were hurrying on, and Cobbett thought 
it would be most prudent to leave the country. From Havre de 
Grace he embarked for America, and landed at New York in Oc- 
tober, 1792. 

It is not very clear what was his intention in coming to Amer- 









& ,544 SELF-MADE MEN. 

^ <<? 

o fl ica. His finances were at a low ebb, and he knew very little 
■ s about trade. He had, however, a letter of recommendation from 
the American embassador at the Hague to Mr. Jefferson, at that 
N time Secretary of State, and may, perhaps, have looked on this as 
: a golden key to fortune. He forwarded the document to Mr. Jef- 
ferson, who, in reply, told him that public offices were so few in 
America, and of so little value, as to offer no resource to talent. 
As it was now absolutely necessary to do something for a living, 
Cobbett determined to try his hand at teaching, and accordingly 
took up his abode in Philadelphia, with the intention of offering 
his services to Frenchmen as a teacher of English. We are not 
informed of his success, but he refers occasionally to his pupils, 
which indicates that he was not wholly without patronage. 

In 1794 Cobbett commenced his career of author. He was in 
his thirty-third year, excessively patriotic, and a thorough-going 
Tory in every respect. The event whicli induced him to seize 
the pen was the arrival of Dr. Priestley in the United States. A 
pamphlet attacking that gentleman, and entitled Observations on 
the Emigration of Doctor Joseph Priestley, by Peter Porcupine, was 
his first effusion. He first offered this production to Mr. Carey, 
of Philadelphia. "Mr. Carey received me," says Cobbett, "as 
booksellers generally receive authors (I mean authors whom they 
get little by). He looked at the title from top to bottom, and 
then at me from head to foot. ' No, my lad,'' says he, ' I don't 
think it will suit.' " He then went to Mr. Bradford, who agreed 
to publish it, and divide the profits, which, we are informed with 
great exactness, amounted to one shilling and seven pence half- 
penny currency, or eleven pence three farthings sterling! The 
pamphlet attracted attention, however, and the vigorous style of 
the author was in demand. During the next two years he wrote 
several pamphlets, obtaining for them the following prices : Ob- 
servations (before referred to), 20 cents ; Bone to Gnaw, Part I., 
125 dollars ; Kick for a Bite, 20 dollars ; Bone to Gnaw, Part II, 
40 dollars ; Plain English, 100 dollars ; New Year's Gift, 100 dol- 
lars ; Prospect, 18 dollars. Total, 403 dollars, 20 cents. 

Encouraged by the success of these publications, Cobbett de- 
termined to reap ail the benefit which might accrue from his pen, 
and in the spring of 1796 commenced business in Philadelphia as 
a bookseller. Up to this time the secrecy of his nomme de plume 
had been preserved, and he was known simply as Peter Porcu- 



WILLIAM COBBETT. 545 

pine. He had hosts of enemies, but, so long as he preserved his 
incognito, their indignation was of little avail ; but when he an- 
nounced his intention to open a shop, and sell his own pamphlets 
as his own productions, his best friends became alarmed. But he 
did so, and took a store of such magnificent proportions, that a 
local paper declared on the spot that he was a British spy, and 
" Billy Pitt's agent." Soon after he had opened his establishment 
he commenced a daily newspaper called Porcupine's Gazette, which 
he continued for some years at the expense of French republican- 
ism and American democracy, both of which he ridiculed with 
the fiercest sarcasm. Writing as he did with the most scrupu- 
lous disregard to private feelings, it is nothing but natural that he 
exposed himself to prosecutions from all quarters. Two libel 
suits were brought against him, one at the instance of the Span- 
ish minister, which was lost, and one at the instance of Dr. Rush, 
of Philadelphia. The latter gentleman succeeded in obtaining a 
verdict of $5000 against Cobbett, which sum was subscribed by 
his admirers in a few days. But the verdict rankled in Cobbett' s 
mind, and he remembered it in his parting address to America. 
This document is curious, and was published on the 1st of June, 
1800, when he sailed from New York for England. Addressing 
the people of the United States, he says, "You will doubtless be 
astonished that, after having had such a smack of the sweets of 
liberty, I should think of rising thus abruptly from the feast ; but 
this astonishment will cease when you consider that, under a gen- 
eral term, things diametrically opposite in their natures are fre- 
quently included, and that flavors are not more various than tastes. 
Thus, for instance, nourishment of every species is called food, 
and we all like food ; but, while one is partial to roast beef and 
plum pudding, another is distractedly fond of flummery and mush. 
So it is with respect to liberty, of which, out of its infinite variety 
of sorts, yours, unfortunately, happens to be the sort which I do 
not like. * * * To my friends, who are also the real friends of 
America, I wish that peace and happiness which virtue ought to 
insure, but which I greatly fear they will not find ; and as to my 
enemies, I can wish them no severer scourge than that which they 
are preparing for themselves and their country. With this I de- 
part for my native land, where neither the moth of democracy nor 
the rust of federalism doth corrupt, and where thieves do not with 
impunity break through and steal $5000 at a time." With Cob- 



546 SELF-MADE MEN. 

bett's feelings, the best thing he could do was to go back to En- 
gland. He was evidently unfit for America. 

Immediately on his arrival in England he paid a visit to the 
place of his birth. His ideas had been expanded by his visit to 
America, and he wrote as follows : "The trees, the hedges, even 
the parks and woods seemed so small ! It made me laugh to hear 
little gutters that I could jump over called rivers. The Thames 
was a creek. But when, in about a month after my arrival in 
London, I went to Farnham, the place of my birth, what was my 
surprise ! Every thing was become so pitifully small! I had to 
cross, in my post-chaise, the long and dreary heath of Bagshot ; 
then, at the end of it, to mount a hill called Hungry Hill ; and 
from that hill I knew that I should look down into the beautiful 
and fertile vale of Farnham. My heart fluttered with impatience, 
mixed with a sort of fear, to see all the scenes of my childhood, 
for I had learned before the death of my father and mother. There 
is a hill not far from the town called Crooksbury Hill, which rises 
up out of a flat in the form of a cone, and is planted with Scotch 
fir-trees. Here I used to take the eggs and young ones of crows 
and magpies. This hill was a famous object in the neighborhood. 
It served as the superlative degree of height. ' As high as Crooks- 
bury Hill' meant, with us, the utmost degree of height. There- 
fore the first object that my eyes sought was this hill. I could 
not believe my eyes. Literally speaking, I for a moment thought 
the famous hill removed, and a little heap put in its place ; for I 
had seen in New Brunswick a single rock, or hill of solid rock, 
ten times as big, and four or five times as high !" Shortly after 
the conclusion of this tour, the first number of the Porcupine made 
its appearance (October, 1800), but, although perfectly fierce, it 
did not attract much attention, and in the following year amalga- 
mated with another daily paper called the True Briton, soon after 
which event Mr. Cobbett ceased to have any connection with it. 
He then commenced the business of bookselling in connection 
with a partner of the name of Morgan, at the sign of the." Crown 
and Mitre," Pall Mall. 

The first number of the Weekly Political Register, a periodical 
from which Cobbett derives most of his fame, appeared in Janu- 
ary, 1802, and from that time to the year 1835, when he died, 
that " faithful record of his delightful egotism, his extreme opin- 
ionativeness, his matchless invective against all public offenders, 



WILLIAM COBBETT. 547 

and his numberless scbemes for putting public affairs in perfect 
order, was kept up to tbe last with unabated vigor by the mar- 
velous force of his single pen." For the first two or three years 
he tried to make the Register what it purported to be — a complete 
record of political intelligence ; but the dry labor and routine of 
this scheme did not become pleasant by custom, and he soon per- 
ceived that the public cared more for what he wrote and thought 
than what he registered. So he wrote more and compiled less. 
The result was a complete success, and the Register obtained a 
circulation of 4000 copies, notwithstanding its high price of twenty 
cents a number. At first he espoused the Tory side, but, after 
some experience, he professed himself disgusted with that party, 
and advocated popular reforms. He wrote with amazing facility, 
and yet with strength, grace, and poetic warmth. In his style, 
says a popular writer, he has been compared to Swift, to Defoe, 
and sometimes to Franklin ; nor w^ould it be difficult to find many 
passages in the Register bearing no small resemblance to each of 
these writers. But, with much of the circumstantial, graphic 
narration-talent of Defoe, the charming simplicity and homely 
wisdom of Franklin, the idiomatic terseness and humor of Swift, 
there is an abounding heartiness and a garrulity in most of his 
writings which stamps them with a special charm, for which we 
might search in vain through most political writers. 

Cobbett's leaning to the popular party became very decided in 
1804, and his attacks on Mr. Pitt correspondingly severe. He 
had a happy faculty of nicknaming his opponents, and of speak- 
ing of them generally in a way that was far from pleasant. The 
members of the government, now the special objects of his attack, 
hated and feared him. No opportunity of crushing his power was 
allowed to pass unimproved. In 1804 he was convicted for libel, 
on the ground that he had published articles tending to bring the 
Earl of Hardwick, Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and several Irish 
officials, into contempt. He was sentenced to pay a fine of £500. 
Two days after, Mr. Plunkett, Attorney General for Ireland, 
brought an action against him, laying the damages at £10,000. 
The jury returned a verdict against Cobbett, and he had to pay 
another five hundred pounds. These prosecutions were intended 
to silence Cobbett, but they had precisely the opposite effect, and 
his merciless blows fell thick and heavy on the ministerial shoul- 
ders. In 1809 he made some very severe remarks on the flogging 



548 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



of five soldiers belonging to a militia regiment then stationed at 
Ely, under a guard of the German Legion. The attorney general 
commenced a prosecution, and on the 15th of June, 1810, Cobbett 
was again found guilty. This time the ministers were determined 
to crush him : he was sentenced to be imprisoned in Newgate for 
two years, to pay a fine of £1000, and, at the expiration of the 
two years, to give security for his good behavior for seven years, 
himself in £3000, and two securities at £1000 each. In the 
Register of the 14th of July, 1810 (four days after sentence had 
been passed), he says : " After having published seventeen vol- 
umes of this work, embracing the period of eight years and a half, 
during which time I have written with my own hand nearly two 
thousand articles upon various subjects, without having, except 
in one single instance, incurred even the threats of the law, I be- 
gin the eighteenth volume in a prison. In this respect, however, 
I only share the lot of many men who have inhabited this prison 
before me ; nor have I the smallest doubt that I shall be enabled 
to follow the example of those men. On the triumphing, the 
boundless joy, the feasting and shouting of the peculators or pub- 
lic robbers, and of all those, whether profligate or hypocritical vil- 
lains, of whom I have been the scourge, I look with contempt, 
knowing very well, feeling in my heart that my situation, even at 
this time, is infinitely preferable to theirs ; and as to the future, 
I can reasonably promise myself days of peace and happiness, 
while continual dread must haunt their guilty minds, while every 
stir and every sound must make them quake for fear. Their day 
is yet to come !" Mr. Cobbett neither forgot nor forgave this 
imprisonment ; it became the topic of his life, and whenever he 
wanted an illustration of the blackest tyranny, he referred to it 
with savage pleasure. Coming as it did at a moment when he 
was at the height of his political popularity, and when he was 
surrounded by all the comforts of a happy home in the country, 
it is not remarkable that he felt with double acuteness the injus- 
tice of which he was the victim. But while in prison, he never 
allowed his spirits to sink ; that would have been a triumph for 
his enemies. He continued his regular avocations, wrote from 
week to week to his readers in the Register, and carried on his 
farm by letter also. He had so much writing to execute that he 
found it absolutely necessary to have one or two of his children 
with him. For the use of a part of the keeper's house he had to 
pay the enormous rent of " twelve guineas a week." 



WILLIAM COBBETT. 549 

On his liberation in 1812, a public' dinner was given to Mr. 
Cobbett, at which the celebrated Sir Francis Burdett presided, 
and from this moment he was looked upon as a martyr in the 
public cause. He applied himself to the interests of his adherents 
with his usual enthusiasm ; but the fines he had to pay, added to 
the fleecing sustained while in prison, and the unavoidable neg- 
lect of his interests during two years, placed him in a position of 
much embarrassment. He struggled against pecuniary difficul- 
ties of the most oppressive kind ; but the fall in the price of agri- 
cultural produce which followed the termination of the American 
war, added to circumstances of a purely political nature, thorough- 
ly alarmed him, and induced him to fly to America (1817). The 
ostensible cause of his leaving England was his fear of again being- 
sent to jail. According to his representation, ministers, in bring- 
ing forward the Six Acts Bill for suppressing freedom of discus- 
sion, had mainly in view the Weekly Register, which had been re- 
duced to four cents some months previously, and had attained a 
weekly circulation of 50,000. From his farewell address, it would 
seem that he was under the influence of a panic, in which pecun- 
iary and political considerations seem to have had an equal share. 
He was clearly of opinion that England was going to ruin, and, 
with less patriotism than we might have expected, he made up 
his mind to desert her. 

Accordingly, he removed to America, and for two years and a 
half wrote his Registers on this side the Atlantic. To indulge his 
rural habits, he took a farm at Hyde Park, Long Island, where, 
in May, 1819, he suffered a severe loss, his house and the greater 
part of his farming stock being consumed by fire. Five months 
after this event he made up his mind to return to England, and 
in November arrived at Liverpool, bearing with him the bones of 
Thomas Paine, for whose genius he had suddenly conceived a sin- 
gular regard, based, it is said, on his opposition to the funding 
system, which Cobbett detested. Soon after his arrival in the 
English metropolis he started a daily paper, called Cobbett 's Even- 
ing Post, which run a rapid career of two months, and then died. 
At the end of that time he resolved to apply himself exclusiveh r 
to the Register. In 1820 he made his first attempt to enter Par- 
liament, but was defeated. In 1826 he repeated the experiment, 
with no better success. In April, 1830, he issued an address, 
the impudent egotism of which is remarkable, recommending that 



550 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



a subscription should be opened in every county in England for 
the purpose of purchasing for him an estate sufficient for the qual- 
ification of two members — himself and another whom he should 
nominate to work within him. The sum required was £10,000 ; 
the sum subscribed was £27 2s. 

In 1831 Mr. Cobbett was again tried for libel. In this case it 
was alleged that an article he had written, called "The Rural 
War," was calculated to excite agricultural laborers to acts of 
sedition, insurrection, and arson. Cobbett defended himself in 
person, and delivered an able speech of six hours and a half. 
The attorney general then replied, and, after Lord Tenterden had 
summed up, the jury retired at five minutes past six o'clock. No 
verdict was given during the night, and at a little before nine in 
the morning the jury stated that they could not agree ; upon which 
they were discharged, and Cobbett was set at liberty. A remark- 
ably narrow escape. 

The first general election after the passage of the Reform Bill 
saw Mr. Cobbett elected to the English House of Parliament as 
representative for the borough of Oldham. He polled a very large 
vote, and headed his opponent by four to one. On the 31st of 
January, 1833, he delivered his maiden speech, which produced 
no small amount of merriment by the homely colloquial style in 
which it was couched. Subsequently the members tried to in- 
terrupt him by calling out "Question ! question!" and "Divide! 
divide !" but Mr. Cobbett convinced the house that the task of 
crying him down was a hopeless one. He was allowed to have 
his talk in his own way ; but it soon became evident even to his 
warmest admirers that he was not destined to shine to advantage 
in the House of Commons. Nor was the change of habits neces- 
sary to his duties agreeable to him. At all times overworked, he 
had maintained his health by the observance of the most regular 
and healthful habits. Night-work in the confined atmosphere of 
the house made ruinous encroachments on his constitution, and 
laid the foundation of the illness which finally carried him off. 
However, Mr. Cobbett was re-elected for Oldham in 1834, and 
resumed his duties in spite of a severe inflammatory attack from 
which he was suffering. A motion was brought on for the repeal 
of the malt tax, and Mr. Cobbett attempted to speak in favor of it, 
but, owing to inflammation of the throat, he could not make him- 
self heard. He remained to vote on the occasion, thereby increas- 



WILLIAM COBBETT. 551 

ing the complaint. A similar instance occurred soon after, and 
Cobbett saw the necessity of attending to himself. He repaired 
to his farm near Farnham, and in a few weeks appeared to be on 
the high road to health ; but he calculated too much on his own 
strength, and was imprudent enough to take tea in the open air. 
A violent relapse was the consequence, and he lingered for a week, 
during which he recovered so far as to talk pleasantly and jovially 
of his various occupations. On the day previous to his death he 
could not rest in the house, but insisted on being carried round 
the farm. It was the last strong impulse of his hardy nature. 
About four o'clock on the following morning (18th of June, 1835), 
William Cobbett expired, aged seventy-four years. "On the 27th 
of June the funeral took place from Normandy farm. The pro- 
cession was attended by Mr. Fielclen, M. P., Mr. O'Connell, and 
several other members of Parliament. By the time it had reached 
Farnham, it was swelled by thousands of laborers in their smock 
frocks and straw hats, who followed the procession to the church- 
yard, where the mortal remains of England's greatest self-taught 
prose writer were deposited beside those of his humble ancestors." 

The best of Mr. Cobbett's works have been largely reprinted in 
the United States, and it is almost unnecessary to speak of their 
excellence. He was a most voluminous writer, and the strongest 
partisan politician that ever lived. Pervading all his productions 
is a delightful aroma of country life, intensified by scraps of per- 
sonal adventure, related in a vein so genial, forcible, and truthful, 
that it is doubtful if any thing superior can be found in English 
literature. Cobbett was an author by instinct. He knew little 
of what is called art, and even scorned that little ; but no one can 
read his best productions without feeling that the essence of art, 
truthfulness, is there. As a reformer, he was, perhaps, the most 
influential man that ever lived, although the inconsistencies into 
which he frequently threw himself detracted from his power, and 
induced even his friends to doubt every thing except his integrity. 

" On the subject of the intellectual character of this remark- 
able man," says a writer in the English Cyclopaedia, " there is al- 
ready a more general agreement of opinion than might have been 
expected, considering the vehement partisanship of the greater 
portion of what he has written. His mind was one of extraordi- 
nary native vigor, but, apparently, not well fitted by original en- 
dowment, any more than by acquirement, for speculations of the 



552 SELF-MADE MEN. 

highest kind. Cobbett's power lay in wielding more effectively, 
perhaps, than they were ever wielded before, those weapons of 
controversy which tell upon what, in the literal acceptation of the 
words, may be called the common sense of mankind ; that is, those 
feelings and capacities which nearly all men possess, in contradis- 
tinction to those of a more refined and exquisite character, which 
belong to a comparatively small number. To these higher feel- 
ings and powers he has nothing to say ; they, and all things that 
they delight in, are uniformly treated by him with a scorn, real 
or affected, more frank and reckless, certainly, in its expression 
than they have met with from any other great writer. He cares 
for nothing but what is cared for by the multitude, and by the 
multitude, too, only of his own day, and, it may be even said, of 
his own country. Shakspeare, the British Museum, antiquity, 
posterity, America, France, Germany, are, one and all, either 
wholly indifferent to him, or the objects of his bitter contempt. 
But in his proper line he is matchless. When he has a subject 
that suits him, he handles it, not so much with the artificial skill 
of an accomplished writer, as with the perfect and inimitable nat- 
ural art with which a dog picks a bone. There are many things 
that other men can do which he can not attempt ; but this he can 
do, as none but himself can or ever could do it." 




AMOS WHITTEMOKE. 

Amos \Thittemore, the inventor of the card machine, was born 
at Cambridge, Massachusetts, April 19th, 1759. His father was 
a small farmer, whose means were limited, but whose industry en- 
abled him to rear a large family in a creditable manner, and give 
to his children the rudiments of an English education. 

Of the early life of Amos we know but little, and for that little 
are indebted to Mr. Howe. He was engaged in the usual avoca- 
tions of the farm, rendering what small assistance lay in his power 
to his father. At an early age he manifested a considerable apti- 
tude for mechanical pursuits, and a talent for science. These 
tastes induced him to select the business of a gunsmith as the one 
which he could follow with most pleasure to himself. During his 
apprenticeship he applied himself diligently to his new trade, and 

A A 



554 SELF-MADE MEN. 

made many ingenious inventions and useful implements for per- 
fecting his work. Long before the term of his apprenticeship had 
expired he was an excellent workman ; so good, indeed, that his 
master declared he was unable to give him any farther instruc- 
tion, and advised him to commence business for himself. 

For several years subsequent to this period he pursued a vari- 
ety of occupations with more or less success, and finally became 
interested with his brother and five others in the manufacture of 
cotton and wool cards. The firm was called Giles, Eichards & 
Co., and supplied nearly all the cards then used in the country. 
Amos' s knowledge of mechanics and his extreme ingenuity point- 
ed him out as a fitting superintendent of the machine department. 

Up to this time the manufacture of cotton and wool cards was 
conducted almost entirely by hand, and was necessarily imperfect 
and expensive. Whittemore immediately perceived that here was 
a field for the exercise of his inventive faculties. The immense 
value of a machine so constructed as to be able, by its own inde- 
pendent action, to hold the sheet of leather, pierce the holes, draw 
the wire from the reel, and shape and stick it in its proper place, 
was apparent to every one. From his brother he received every 
kind of encouragement, and at once proceeded to experiments, in 
the pursuit of which he was so indefatigable that his health was 
seriously impaired. He slept on wool cards, dreamed of wool 
cards, lived and breathed in wool cards. Such application could 
not be without result. After some failures, which only served to 
stimulate his invention, he produced a machine which was able to 
draw the wire from the reel, cut and shape it, pierce the holes in 
the leather, and even place the staples firmly in the sheet ; but it 
was necessary to bend the wire after it was placed : without this, 
all was in vain. The difficulty was one which baffled him in ev- 
ery direction. He tried to surmount it in a thousand ways, but 
it seemed useless, and he abandoned himself to despair. The ma- 
chine he had created lay before him like a beautiful corpse, per- 
fect in every respect, but lacking the breath of life. He was 
plunged into the greatest despondency and gloom, and night or 
day could find but little rest for his troubled mind. Exhausted 
by this state of nervous excitement, he sunk into a slumber one 
evening. A strange vision visited him. He awoke with a per- 
fect scheme for the accomplishment of his object. It had come 
to him in a dream, but it was reality in the morning, and before 



AMOS WHITTEMORE. 555 

breakfast he was able to announce to his brother and friends the 
completion of his machine. Whittemore dwelt with much satis- 
faction on this dream in after years. 

The machine, when completed, was a masterpiece of beautiful 
mechanism. In 1797, a patent right was granted to the inventor 
and his associates far the term of fourteen years. To procure the 
same protection in England, Whittemore sailed for that country 
in the spring of 1799, and returned the following year without 
having obtained any satisfaction. Numerous offers were made to 
Whittemore either to purchase the right or a share in the profits 
of the invention, but for some cause Whittemore did not come to 
terms. The consequence was that he derived no benefit from 
that country. 

On his return, Whittemore and his brother entered into a co- 
partnership with a man of capital, and commenced the manufac- 
ture of the improved machinery in a limited way. Before this 
firm had got properly into operation, the patent right was nearly 
expired. Considerable apprehension was felt ; but Whittemore 
visited Washington with a full-sized machine as a model, and so 
charmed the members with its perfection, that by a unanimous 
vote the patent was extended for a further term of fourteen years. 
Immediately after this, efforts were made to establish a company 
with a sufficient capital to- carry on the manufacture with energy. 
In 1812 an act was obtained incorporating the " New York Man- 
ufacturing Company." The capital was $800,000, of which near- 
ly a half was to be employed in the manufacture of cotton and 
wool cards, and building the necessary machinery and factories. 
One of the first acts of the company was to purchase the patent 
right and entire stock and machinery of Whittemore for the sum 
of one hundred and fifty thousand dollars. The time was favor- 
able to the operations of the company. A war raged between 
England and America; commerce was entirely interrupted, and 
the necessity of supplying ourselves with what was needed caused 
manufactories of cotton and woolen stuffs especially to spring up 
as if by magic. There was such a demand for hand-cards that 
the company was soon busily and profitably employed. 

Exactly the reverse of this was the case when, in 1815, peace 
was proclaimed. An enormous influx of foreign goods glutted 
the market, and threw the native manufacturer entirely out of 
the field. The raw material was again in demand, and scarcely 



556 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



a pound of cotton or wool remained at home. Private individu- 
als found it impossible to struggle against the reverse ; corpora- 
tions, much more unwieldy and thriftless, sunk hopelessly beneath 
the reaction. In 1818, after waiting three years for an improved 
state of things, the company proposed and effected a sale of its 
entire manufacturing property to Messrs. Samuel and Timothy 
Whittemore, the former a brother, the latter a son of the in- 
ventor. The first named person almost immediately relinquished 
his interest, and Whittemore became the sole proprietor. He con- 
ducted the business with varied success until within a few years. 
The "New York Manufacturing Company" invested its funds in 
the banking business, and continues its operations to the present 
day under the name and title of the "Phoenix Bank." The pat- 
ent expired in 1825, and the machines were thereafter made by 
any one who chose to apply himself to the business. As an evi- 
dence of the perfection of the machine which Whittemore invent- 
ed, it may be interesting to know that no important alteration has 
taken place in its construction, but that it remains essentially the 
same to the present day. 

Whittemore purchased a comfortable estate in the town of 
West Cambridge, and resided there in the quiet pursuit of astro- 
nomical science to the time of his death, which occurred in 1828, 
in the sixty-ninth year of his age, leaving a widow and several 
children to lament his loss. "To his family," says his biographer, 
" he was an example of one who lived a pure and blameless life, 
and, though he left but an inconsiderable fortune, they inherited 
a far brighter treasure in an unsullied reputation." Whittemore 
was of a bland and conciliating disposition, even in temper, and 
in manners strikingly meditative, conversing but little, and often 
seen in profound mental cogitation. 




CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 

James Cook, the celebrated circumnavigator, was the son of 
peasants, and came into the world in the year 1728. His fa- 
ther was in the humblest circumstances, and gained a scanty liv- 
ing by working as day laborer on the small farms of his native 
county, Yorkshire, England. James assisted his father until his 
thirteenth year, when a change to circumstances rather more 
prosperous than what had before existed enabled him to attend 
school, and acquire some knowledge of reading, writing, and arith- 
metic. A few years later he was apprenticed to a shopkeeper in 
a small fishing town a few miles from Whitby, and here he ac- 
quired his first appetite for the sea. It is probable that he was 
not very useful in the mercantile way, for, when there was an 
opportunity of shipping off his apprentice, his master willingly 
gave up his indentures. Cook now entered on his seafaring ca- 
reer in the humble capacity of cabin-boy. The F'reelove was the 
vessel in which he embarked, and she was engaged principally in 
the coal trade. In time Cook became a foremast man, and was 



558 SELF-MADE MEN. 

considered so skillful and well-informed that the owners promoted 
him to the rank of mate. He was not popular with his fellow-sea- 
men, who considered him taciturn and morose, while, in reality, he 
was merely retiring. Every opportunity he had he devoted to the 
acquiring of knowledge. Cook remained in this service until his 
twenty-seventh year. War had then broken out between France 
and England, and there was consequently a demand for seamen. 
Cook entered the navy, and his steady conduct and seaman-like 
qualities again served him. He was promoted to the quarter-deck 
by a master's warrant from the Admiralty, dated May 10th, 1759, 
Cook then being in his thirty-first year. His first appointment 
was to the Mercury, in which vessel he assisted at the reduction 
of Quebec under General Wolfe. In the dangerous navigation 
of the St. Lawrence Mr. Cook's talents were called into active 
operation. The buoys in that river had all been removed by the 
French at the first appearance of the English fleet, and it became 
vitally necessary that a survey should be made of the channels, 
and correct soundings obtained, to enable the ships to keep clear 
of the many dangers which beset that stream. By the recom- 
mendation of his commander, this onerous duty was intrusted to 
Mr. Cook, who cheerfully undertook it in a barge belonging to a 
seventy-four. He had to conduct many of his operations by night, 
on account of the watchfulness of the enemy, and one night he ex- 
perienced a narrow escape ; his boat was boarded by Indians in 
the pay of the French, and carried off in triumph, Cook and his 
companions barely escaping with their lives. The fleet, thanks to 
Cook's skill, reached its destination in safety. 

On his return from Quebec, Mr. Cook was appointed master of 
the Northumberland, under Lord Colville, who was stationed as 
commodore at Halifax. Here he remained during the winter, 
improving his leisure with studies which would better enable him 
to pursue his profession with honor and distinction. He was 
determined to become thoroughly master of the art of navigation, 
and, with this object in view, he made himself master of Euclid's 
Elements of Plane Geometry, and proceeded thence to the higher 
branches of mathematical study, including nautical astronomy. 
By this course he was able to take astronomical observations, to 
calculate a ship's progress, and to ascertain the. degree of latitude 
and longitude at any given spot on the ocean. Mixing as he did 
with men of education and refinement, he acquired also an urbane 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 559 

and courteous bearing, which conciliated all classes of people, and 
which certainly contributed largely to his future success in life. 

In 1762 Mr. Cook returned to England, and married an esti- 
mable lady of the name of Batts. In the following year he was 
appointed to survey the whole coast of Newfoundland, which task 
he performed with his usual promptitude and skill. After this he 
made another trip under his old commander, Sir Hugh Palliser, 
a gentleman who was a true friend. Cook had now published 
several charts, and had made numerous observations. These 
matters brought him into correspondence with members of the 
Eoyal Society, and some of his papers were published in their 
Transactions. In this way he became known and recognized in 
the scientific world, and on his thirty-fourth birth-day could claim 
the friendship of many of the most eminent men in England. 

At this time the project of a voyage of discovery for various 
scientific purposes was largely discussed. The principal object 
of the expedition was to observe a transit of the planet Venus 
over the face of the sun, which could only be done somewhere in 
the Pacific or Southern Ocean. The transit, according to the 
best calculations, was to happen in June, 1769. The Royal So- 
ciety, as the representative of the scientific world, applied to the 
king to fit out an expedition suitable to take the observations, 
and the king complied with the request. The command was of- 
fered to Cook, and was so much to his mind that in a very short 
time he was ready for sea. He received the commission of a lieu- 
tenant from the king, and the Endeavor, of 370 tons, was placed 
at his disposal. She was provisioned for eighteen months, armed 
with twelve carriage-guns and twelve swivels, and manned with 
a complement of eighty-four seamen. A number of scientific gen- 
tlemen, with every requisite apparatus, accompanied the expedi- 
tion, many of them doing so at their own cost. On the 26th of 
August, 1768, the expedition set sail from Plymouth Sound. On 
the 1 1th of April, after many delays, they came in sight of Otaheite, 
and two days after anchored in Port Eoyal (Matavai), where the 
scientific gentlemen landed, and made preparations for taking their 
observations. The natives were friendly, and Cook endeavored to 
keep them so by drawing up a code of regulations by which com- 
munication and traffic were to be carried on in an equitable way. 
But the savages were not accustomed to treaties of this kind, and 
in a few days violated it. A big fellow fell in love with the bright 



5G0 SELF-MADE MEN. 

musket which a sentinel carried, and dexterously snatched it from 
his hands. The marines were ordered to fire, and the thief was 
shot dead. This was the first lesson that Cook taught the Otaheit- 
ans ; the second related to his own crew. A butcher became too 
familiar with the wife of a native chief, and attempted to take liber- 
ties with her. Cook ordered the fellow to be flogged publicly. At 
the first stroke of the lash the natives prayed that the man might 
be forgiven ; but Cook was inexorable. He did not wish them to 
imagine that he threatened a thing without intending to fulfill it. 
Shortly after this the scientific gentlemen were thrown into a 
state of the greatest alarm and consternation. The quadrant, 
an instrument on which every thing depended, was nowhere to be 
found. Diligent search and the offer of a reward were without ef- 
fect. It became evident that it had been pilfered by a native, and 
this proved to be the case. Fortunately, however, it was recovered 
by Sir Joseph Banks before it had suffered any damage. The time 
for observing the transit now approached, and on the morning of 
the 3d of June satisfactory observations were made. Their en- 
terprise was consequently crowned with success. The only an- 
noyance now experienced was from the thievish habits of the na- 
tives. Cook was unwilling to fire ujjoii them, but every day it 
became more apparent that something had to be done. On one 
occasion he seized all their fishing canoes, partly laden ; and 
though, from motives of humanity, he gave up the fish, yet he de- 
tained the vessels, under a hope that several articles which had 
been pilfered would be restored ; but in this he was mistaken. 
Mr. Cook and Mr. Banks (afterward Sir Joseph) explored the isl- 
and, the latter gentleman planting seeds of watermelons, oranges, 
lemons, limes, and other plants and trees, which he had collected 
for the purpose, some of which now grow in rich perfection. On 
the 13th of July the ship weighed anchor, having on board a prin- 
cipal native of the name of Tupia, and a boy of thirteen, both of 
whom asked permission to accompany the ship to England. Aft- 
er quitting Otaheite, the Endeavor visited a group of islands, 
which, in consequence of their contiguity, Cook named the Soci- 
ety Islands. The expedition was generally well received by the 
natives, except at Ulictea, where the natives displayed so much 
hostility that Cook deemed it best not to force a landing, and pro- 
ceeded on his way to the southward, in search of a supposed con- 
tinent. On the 6th of October land was discovered, which proved 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 561 

to be a part of New Zealand. Here again the natives were hos- 
tile, and made the most warlike demonstrations. Tupia acted as 
the interpreter, and entreated them to put confidence in the En- 
glish ; but this they declined to do. A conflict was the inevita- 
ble result, in which some of the New Zealanders were killed, and 
three boys taken prisoners, who were treated with much kindness. 
As the place afforded nothing that the voyagers wanted, Mr. 
Cook named it Poverty Bay, and when the ship was about to sail 
on its course, released the three boys, who, it was hoped, would 
create a favorable impression in the minds of the natives by the 
account of the kind treatment they had received. The experi- 
ment appeared to be successful ; some of the Indians came off to 
the ship, but it was almost impossible to keep friends with them 
for more than an hour or two at a time. Armed parties in large 
canoes assembled, and paddled off to the Endeavor as if to trade, 
but in reality to plunder, and they performed the latter operation 
with such coolness that in several instances it was absolutely nec- 
essary to fire on them. On one occasion they stole Tupia's boy 
Tayeto, the lad being the only trifle which happened to be lying 
about. They were, of course, compelled to relinquish their prey, 
but blood had to be shed before they consented to do so. While 
standing along the coast, the Enterprise narrowly escaped being 
wrecked on the rocks that lay some distance from the land ; and 
again, on the 5th of December, while turning out of the Bay of Isl- 
ands. In the latter instance the ship drifted so close to the shore 
that, notwithstanding the incessant roar of the breakers, they could 
hear the voices of the natives on the beach. The pinnace was got 
out to tow the vessel's head round, but none expected to escape 
destruction. Fortunately, a breeze sprung up at the right mo- 
ment, and the ship got clear. About an hour afterward, just as 
the man heaving the. lead sung out "seventeen fathoms," she 
struck on a hidden rock ; there was scarcely time for confusion be- 
fore she was washed off by the swell and carried into deep water. 
On the 14th of January, 1770, the expedition anchored in 
Queen Charlotte's Sound to refit the ship and make necessary 
repairs. They found a good supply of fresh water, and took 
plenty of fish, but of inhabitants they saw but few. In one of 
their rambles they discovered an Indian family, and had ocular 
demonstration of cannibalism. The natives were friendly and 
hospitable. After a month's stay in these pleasant quarters, they 

Aa2 



562 SELF-MADE MEN. 

proceeded to explore three or four islands in the locality, giving 
names to capes, headlands, rocks, etc. On the 19th of April they 
came in sight of New Holland (New South Wales, as it is now call- 
ed), and anchored in Botany Bay on the 28th, where they landed. 
Two or three Indians on the shore objected to the latter ceremony, 
and made a gallant opposition with their lances ; but a few shots so 
astonished their uncultivated ears that they did not recover a tol- 
erable presence of mind until the expedition was out of sight. 
The voyagers left beads and trinkets in the huts of the natives, 
but without any conciliatory result. They persisted in being pro- 
foundly unconscious of the presence of strangers. In the Bay they 
caught a fish called a string-ray, which, after the entrails were 
taken out, weighed 336 pounds. Cook continued his explorations 
in New South Wales with great energy, but on the 10th of June 
the voyage was nearly brought to an end by the Enterprise striking 
on a coral reef and remaining there for forty-eight hours. She 
was at length got off, after having thrown every thing overboard 
which could in the slightest degree lighten her weight. The dan- 
ger, however, was not removed, for she had a large hole in her 
bottom, and made water rapidly. When they got into harbor the 
bottom was overhauled, and a large piece of rock was discovered 
sticking firmly in the hole. If it had fallen out the vessel would 
undoubtedly have gone to the bottom. As it was, many valuable 
specimens collected by the scientific gentlemen, and placed in the 
hold for security, were utterly destroyed. 

After touching at a number of other islands, at the Cape of 
Good Hope, and at St. Helena, the Enterprise returned home in 
safety on the 10th of June. The success of the expedition was 
so complete and satisfactory that Mr. Cook was promoted to the 
rank of commander, and became a great lion in the English me- 
tropolis, where, being an agreeable man, he made the most of his 
adventures. 

Cook's second voyage round the world was undertaken for the 
purpose of exploring Australia, which was then supposed to be a 
southern continent of great magnitude. The king was again the 
patron, and two stout ships were purchased — the Resolution, of 
462 tons, commanded by Captain Cook, with a complement of 112 
persons, and the Adventure, of 336 tons, commanded by Tobias 
Furneaux, with a crew, including officers, of 81 souls. The ves- 
sels were supplied with every thing that experience, philanthropy, 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 5C3 

or science could suggest, and a full staff of scientific men were also 
engaged. Cook's instructions were " to circumnavigate the whole 
globe in high southern latitudes, making traverses, from time to 
time, into every part of the Pacific Ocean that had not undergone 
previous investigation, and to use his best endeavors to resolve 
the much-agitated question of a southern continent." The ves- 
sels quitted Plymouth on the 13th of July, 1772, and after touch- 
ing at Madeira for wine, and at the Cape de Yerds for water, 
crossed the line with a brisk southwest wind, and anchored in 
Table Bay, Cape of Good Hope, on the 30th of October. From 
this point they shaped their course for Cape Circumcision, but, 
owing to the severity of the weather, and the great quantities of 
floe ice and icebergs which they encountered, they failed to find 
that point, and did not see land for 117 days, having in that time 
traversed 3660 leagues, and reached New Zealand. The vessels 
unfortunately parted company, and did not meet again until the 
Eesolution reached Queen Charlotte's Sound. Subsequently they 
parted again, and did not meet until their return to England. 
Singular enough, they arrived within a day of each other. 

Cook did his best to cultivate the good opinion of the New 
Zealanders, and on parting left them a male and female goat, and 
a boar and two sows. From Queen Charlotte's Sound they di- 
rected their course to Otaheite, and on the 17th of August an- 
chored in Oaiti-piha Bay. The natives were perfectly friendly, 
and crowded on board with fruits, vegetables, etc., to trade for 
nails and beads. Shirts were bestowed on the most important 
chiefs, which enormously exaggerated their dignity. Unfortu- 
nately, however, their thieving propensities had not subsided, and 
Cook had to turn them out of the ship and frighten them with 
musketry in order to put them on their guard. At Matavai Bay 
they found themselves popular. The natives had remembered 
their former voyage, and crowded the decks with eagerness and 
curiosity. Cook went to see Otoo, the reigning chief or prince, 
and describes him as a fine, well-made man, six feet high, and 
about thirty years of age. He was not remarkable for bravery, 
for, being invited to visit the ship, he declined on the ground 
" that he was frightened of the guns." From Matavai Bay the 
ship proceeded to Owharre. The chief remembered Cook with 
much kindliness, and brought the presents he had received on the 
former vovase to show that he treasured them. A number of 



564 S ELF- MADE MEX. 

compliments passed between the parties, but they did not avert an 
outrage. Without any provocation, a man assailed Captain Cook 
with a club at the landing-place ; and Mr. Sparrman, who had 
gone into the woods to botanize, was set upon, beaten, and strip- 
ped. The Indians generally expressed their indignation, and the 
king was so much affected that he wept aloud, and insisted on 
placing himself entirely in the hands of the British until the cul- 
prits were found. He was taken on board the Resolution as a 
hostage, and dined with Captain Cook, but nothing was heard of 
Mr. Sparrman' s personal effects, with the exception of his hang- 
er, which was restored. When the king was landed by Captain 
Cook in great state, the joy of the people knew no bounds. They 
made a serviceable demonstration by loading two boats with hogs 
and fruits, and sending them to their English friend. 

The voyagers quitted this part of the world on the 17th, and 
sailed to the westward. By the 1st of October they had reached 
Middleburg, and were welcomed in the most cordial manner by 
the natives. Barter commenced, but the people on shore seemed 
more anxious to give than to receive, and threw into the boats 
whole bales of cloth without asking or waiting for any thing in 
return. After leaving some garden-seeds and other useful things, 
the ship proceeded to Amsterdam, where they met with a similar 
reception. The island was found to be in an admirable state of 
cultivation, and the fertility unexceptionable. Captain Cook paid 
a visit to the head chief, who was seated, and seemed to be in an 
idiotic state of self-complacent dignity. He did not pay the 
slightest attention to the captain or any one in the party. Per- 
haps he was selected by the people to be their king on account of 
these very qualities, for, as a rule, the natives were found to be 
intelligent and lively — the women especially so. Most of them 
had lost one or both of their little fingers, but no reason could be 
gathered for the cause of this amputation. 

The voyage was renewed on the 7th of October, and after call- 
ing at several places, the ship hauled up in November at Queen 
Charlotte's Sound for repairs. It was here discovered that much 
of the bread had been destroyed by the salt water that had entered 
the hold during their accident. On the 26th Cook took leave of 
New Zealand, with his ship's company in good health and spirits. 
They were now bound on finding the southern continent or isl- 
ands in high latitudes, and knew that they had to encounter 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK 56o 

many hardships and dangers before they could again see land. 
They were not long before they fell in with large fields of ice, 
and in latitude 67° 5 / they were nearly blocked up, and on the 
22d of December attained the highest latitude they could venture 
(lat. 67° 31', long. 142° 54 7 west), but could discover no indica- 
tions of the proximity of land. After traversing the ocean in a 
southerly direction as far as it was prudent to go, the scientific 
men gave it as their opinion that ice surrounded the pole, without 
any intervening land, and advised the captain therefore to turn 
the vessel northward, and look for the island of Juan Fernandez. 
About this time Captain Cook was seized with a violent and dan- 
gerous disease, which required all the skill of the doctors to con- 
quer. On partially recovering, it became absolutely necessary 
that he should receive some fresh nourishment, his stomach being 
too weak to bear the ordinary salted provisions. Gastronomic- 
ally considered, the only fresh meat on board was the unhappy 
little dog of Mr. Forster. Ponto had to suiFer. An agreeable 
broth was made from his remains, and on this and a few tender 
bits the captain gained strength. On the 11th of March they 
came in sight of Easter Island, where they remained but a short 
time, owing to the insecurity of the harbor and the scarcity of 
food and fuel. Early in April they reached the Marquesas, where 
they found a plentiful supply of fresh meats, yams, fruits, and 
plantains. These provisions were never more welcome, for the 
ship's company had now been on salt victuals for fourteen weeks. 
Owing to the great care and cleanliness of the captain, however, 
there had been no sickness on board. From the Marquesas they 
proceeded to their old anchorage ground at Matavai Bay, where 
they found the king and the chiefs more warmly disposed than 
ever. The Otaheitans got up a grand naval review for the edifi- 
cation of their visitors. No fewer than 160 of the largest and 
handsomest double canoes were assembled, fully manned with 
chiefs and warriors in their most terrific costumes, who appeared 
upon the fighting stages with their clubs and other instruments 
of warfare ready for action. Besides these large vessels, there 
were 170 smaller double canoes, each having a mast and sail, and 
a sort of hut or cabin on the deck. Captain Cook calculated 
that the number of men embarked on them could not be fewer 
than 7760, most of them armed with clubs, pikes, barbed spikes, 
bows and arrows, and slings for throwing large stones. The 



56C 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



demonstration was quite imposing, and astonished the English, 
who did not give the Otaheitans credit for such extensive re- 
sources. While staying in this hospitable bay a romantic inci- 
dent occurred. One of the seamen fell desperately in love with 
an Indian girl, and made up his mind that he would marry, her. 
With this honorable object in view, he contrived to make his 
escape from the ship, and gained the woods, where it was his in- 
tention to stay until the expedition had sailed. The natives were 
not unfriendly to the project, but Captain Cook interfered in time 
to prevent its fulfillment. 

Leaving these friendly islands, the voyagers cruised about, dis- 
covered a number of smaller ones, named them, and finally 
reached Queen Charlotte's Sound, New Zealand, where, after re- 
fitting, they departed for the western entrance of the Straits of 
Magellan, in order to coast along the south side of Terra del 
Fuego, round Cape Horn to the Straits of Le Maire. On the 
17th of December they reached the first-mentioned desolate re- 
gion, and after coasting as far as 60° south, the course was al- 
tered to look for Bouvet's Land ; but, though they reached the 
spot where it was laid down on the charts, and sailed over and 
over it, yet no such place could be discovered, and after two day's 
search more to the southward, Cook came to the conclusion that 
Bouvet had mistaken ice for land. He now steered for the Cape 
of Good Hope, and home. After an absence of three years and 
eighteen days, the expedition reached Portsmouth in safety, hav- 
ing in that time sailed 20,000 leagues, in all sorts of climates and 
all sorts of weather. So admirable were Cook's arrangements 
for preserving the health of his people, and so strict was he in 
enforcing them, that only one man was lost by sickness during 
the entire voyage. 

The king once more expressed his satisfaction by making Cook 
a post-captain, and three days later a captaincy in Greenwich 
Hospital was conferred upon him, to afford an honorable and 
competent retirement from active service. On the 29th of Feb- 
ruary, 1776, he was elected a member of the Royal Society, and 
soon after was honored with the gold medal, accompanied with a 
eulogium from the lips of Sir John Pringle, who performed the 
ceremony of presentation. It was on the conclusion of this voy- 
age that Cook made his first appearance in the character of author. 
The account of the voyage was written by Cook himself, and man- 
ifests decided ability. 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 567 

Cook's third and last voyage was undertaken for the purpose 
of discovering a supposed northwest passage from the Atlantic to 
the Pacific Oceans. Numerous expeditions had been sent out for 
this purpose at various times, but they had all failed. It was 
resolved by the Admiralty to make one other trial, under the 
auspices of the successful circumnavigator. Accordingly, on the 
10th of February, 1776, he was appointed to the command in his 
old and trusty ship, the Resolution, and Captain Clerke, in the 
Discoveiv/, was ordered to accompany him. Cook's instructions 
were to proceed direct to the Pacific Ocean, and thence to try 
the passage by way of Behring's Straits ; and as it was necessary 
that the islands in the Southern Ocean should be revisited, cattle 
and sheep, with other animals, and all kinds of seeds, were shipped 
for the advantage of the inhabitants. 

The Resolution sailed on the 12th of July, 1776 (the Discovery 
was to follow), having on board a native of the Sandwich Islands 
to act as interpreter. Nothing of importance occurred on the 
outward voyage, and on the 12th of February, 1777, Cook arrived 
at Queen Charlotte's Sound, New Zealand, where he anchored. 
He found the natives suspiciously sly, and no amount of persuasion 
could induce them to venture on board. They had reason for their 
uneasiness. On the last voyage, the Adventure had visited this 
place, and ten of her crew had been killed in an unpremeditated 
skirmish. They apprehended chastisement, and thought it best 
to be on the alert. It was not convenient for Cook to add to any 
ill feeling that might exist, so he said nothing about the massacre, 
but tried to conciliate. From the Sound the ship proceeded to 
some of the South Sea Islands, where they obtained a plentiful 
supply of provisions, but were greatly annoyed by the thievish 
propensities of the natives. To check this, Cook hit upon a new 
device. He seized the culprit and shaved his head, thus making 
him an object of ridicule to his countrymen, and enabling the 
English to keep their eyes on him. At Tongataboo generous 
hospitality was shown to them, and the king invited Cook to re- 
side with him in his house. Here he made a distribution of ani- 
mals among the chiefs, explaining their uses, and how to preserve 
them. A horse and mare, a bull and cow, several sheep and tur- 
keys were thus given away. But, in spite of this kindly reciproc- 
ity, thieving still went on. Cook became incensed, and determ- 
ined that he would put a stop to it at any risk. Two kids and 



568 SELF-MADE MEN. 

two turkey-cocks were abstracted from the stores. The captain 
seized three canoes, put a guard over the chiefs, and insisted that 
not only the kids and turkeys should be restored, but also every 
thing that had been taken away since their arrival. Much of 
the plunder was returned. But the chiefs, who were friendly, 
probably felt themselves insulted. 

After remaining nearly three months in these hospitable but 
unprincipled regions," Cook took his departure for Otaheite, and 
thence for Matavai Bay, where he presented King Otoo with the 
remainder of his live-stock, among which were a horse and mare. 
To show the natives the use of the latter animals, Captains Cook 
and Clerke rode about the island on horseback, much to the aston- 
ishment of the simple people. More civilized people have some- 
times been astonished when they saw, for the .first time, Mr. Jack 
Tar astride a horse. The wonder of the natives never abated. 
At Huaheine a thief occasioned the voyagers much trouble. He 
was a determined rascal, and shaving his head and beard, and 
cutting off his ears, had no moral effect on him. He persisted in 
his evil ways, and defied public opinion. At Ulictea several de- 
sertions took place, the deserters being sheltered by the Indians. 
Both Captain Clerke and Captain Cook went in pursuit of the 
fugitives, but without success. The latter therefore ordered the 
chief's son, daughter, and son-in-law to be seized, and held as 
hostages until the deserters were given up. The remedy was ef- 
fectual, and in a few days an exchange was effected. This severe 
policy of Cook was intended to save the spilling of innocent blood ; 
but it produced much indignation among the savages, who felt 
that it was an outrage to seize the highest persons in their land 
for every trivial offense. Even at this early day schemes were 
afoot to assassinate Cook and Clerke. 

On the 2d of January the ships resumed their voyage north- 
ward. They passed several islands, the inhabitants of which, 
though at an immense distance from Otaheite, spoke the same 
language. Those who came on board displayed the utmost aston- 
ishment at every thing they saw, and it was evident that they had 
never seen a ship before. They resembled the South Sea Island- 
ers in another unpleasant respect — they were passionately addict- 
ed to stealing. To a group of these islands Captain Cook gave 
the name of the Sandwich Islands. New Albion was made on 
the 7th of March, the ships then being in latitude 44° 33 / north, 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 569 

and, after sailing along it till the 29th, they came to anchor in a 
small cove lying in latitude 49° 29 / north. A brisk trade com- 
menced with the natives, who appeared to be well acquainted 
with the value of iron, and were eager to get it in exchange for 
skins, etc., rough and manufactured into garments. But the most 
extraordinary articles which they offered in trade were human 
skulls, and hands not quite stripped of the flesh, and which had 
the appearance of having been recently on the fire. Thieving 
was practiced in a dexterous and educated manner, but the na- 
tives were strict in being paid for every thing they supplied to the 
ships, with which rule Cook was happy to comply. This inlet was 
named King George's Sound, but it was afterward ascertained 
that the natives called it Nootka Sound, by which name it is more 
commonly known.' From this point they exercised the greatest 
watchfulness, hoping to find an outlet into the Atlantic Ocean, but, 
as every one knows, without success. Cook was able, however, 
to ascertain the relative positions of the two continents, Asia and 
America, whose extremities he observed. He explored the coasts 
in Behring's Straits, where they found some Eussian traders. 
The ships then quitted the harbor of Samganoodah, and sailed for 
the Sandwich Islands, Captain Cook intending to await the sea- 
son there, and then return to Kamtschatka. In latitude 20° 55 / 
they discovered the island of Mowee, and a few days later fell in 
with another, which the natives called Owhyhee, the extent of 
which was so great that the voyagers were nearly seven weeks 
sailing round it and examining the coast. The inhabitants were 
extremely pleasant, and appeared to be entirely free from suspi- 
cion. Their canoes flocked around the ships in hundreds, and 
came well laden too, but the gentlemen were light fingered, and 
had but little fear of gunpowder. Captain Cook had an inter- 
view with Terreeoboo, king of the islands, in which great formal- 
ity was observed on both sides, followed by an exchange of pres- 
ents and an exchange of names. The natives were extremely def- 
erential to Cook, displaying almost an amount of adoration. A 
society of priests (native) furnished the ships with a plentiful sup- 
ply of hogs and vegetables, without requiring any return. On 
the day previous to their departure the king sent them an im- 
mense quantity of cloth, many boat-loads of vegetables, and a 
whole herd of hogs. The ships then sailed, but on the following 
day encountered such a severe storm that they had to put back 



570 SELF-MADE MEN. 

in order to repair damages. They anchored at the old spot, and 
for a time things went on pleasantly ; but a theft took place, and 
the seamen, becoming enraged at losing every trifling article they 
possessed, had an affray with the natives. It was not a trifling 
article in this instance, however, being, in fact, no smaller than the 
cutter of the ship Discovery. The boats of both vessels were im- 
mediately sent in search of her, and Captain Cook went on shore 
to arrange matters in a determined spirit. The robbery was of 
the most audacious kind, and certainly merited punishment, but 
it is questionable if Cook's policy (considering the kindness he 
had so lately experienced) was the best that could have been de- 
vised. 

We have, in our sketch of the life of Ledyard, given the sub- 
stance of what follows. Ledyard, it will be remembered, was a 
member of the expedition, and an acute observer of all that took 
place. There are, however, some slight variations in the two ac- 
counts, and we continue our narrative so that they may be com- 
pared by the curious. 

Cook left the Resolution about seven o'clock, attended by the 
lieutenant of marines, a sergeant, a corporal, and seven private 
men. The pinnace's crew were likewise armed, and under the 
command of Mr. Roberts ; the launch was also ordered to assist 
his own boat. On landing there was not the slightest symptom 
of hostility ; crowds gathered around the Englishmen, and were 
kept in order by the chiefs, who seemed desirous that every thing- 
should proceed in an orderly and pleasant manner. Captain Cook 
proceeded to the king's house, and requested that he would go on 
board the Resolution, intending, of course, to keep him as a hostage. 
The king, individually, offered but few objections, but his people 
evidently understood the manoeuvre, and quietly commenced arm- 
ing themselves with spears, clubs, and daggers, and protecting 
themselves with the thick mats which they usually donned in 
time of war like armor. While affairs were in this state, a canoe 
arrived from the opposite side of the bay, and announced that one 
of the native chiefs had been killed by a shot from the Discovery's 
boat. Indignant excitement now agitated the crowd ; the wom- 
en retired, and the men openly uttered threats. Cook, perceiv- 
ing the threatening aspect that things had assumed, ordered Lieu- 
tenant Middleton to march his marines down to the boats, to 
which the islanders offered no objection. He then escorted the 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 571 

king, attended by his wife, two sons, and several chiefs. One of 
the sons had already entered the pinnace, expecting his father to 
follow, when the king's wife entreated him not to leave the shore, 
or he would be put to death. Matters were now hurrying to a 
crisis. A chief, with a dagger concealed under his cloak, was 
observed watching Cook, and the lieutenant of marines wanted 
to fire at him, but this the captain would not permit. The chief 
gained new courage by this hesitation, and closed on them, and 
the officer struck him with his firelock. Another native inter- 
fered, and grasped the sergeant's musket, and was compelled to 
let it go by a blow from the lieutenant. Cook, seeing that it was 
useless to attempt to force the king off, was about to give orders 
to re-embark, when a man flung a stone at him, which he returned 
by discharging small shot from the barrels of his piece. The man, 
being scarcely hurt, brandished his spear as if about to hurl it at 
the captain, who at once knocked him down, but refrained from 
using ball. He then addressed the crowd, and endeavored to re- 
store peace, but while so engaged a man was observed behind a 
double canoe in the act of darting a spear at the captain. Seeing 
that his life was really in danger, Cook fired, but killed the wrong 
man. The sergeant of marines, however, instantly brought clown 
the offender with his musket. For a moment the islanders seemed 
to lose some of their impetuosity, but the crowds that had gather- 
ed behind pressed on those who were the immediate spectators of 
what had occurred, and, what was even more fatal, poured in a 
volley of stones. The marines, without waiting for orders, re- 
turned the compliment with a general discharge of musketry, 
which was directly succeeded by a brisk fire from the boats. 
Cook was surprised and vexed at this accidental turn of affairs, 
and waved his hand to the boats to desist, and come on shore to 
embark the marines. The pinnace unhesitatingly obeyed ; but 
the lieutenant in the launch, instead of pulling in to the assistance 
of his commander, rowed farther off, at the very moment when his 
services were most required. The marines crowded into the pin- 
nace with precipitation and confusion, and were so jammed to- 
gether that they were unable to protect themselves. Those who 
were on shore kept up the fire, but the moment their pieces were 
discharged the islanders rushed upon them, and forced the party 
into the water, where four of them were killed and the lieutenant 
wounded. When this occurred, Cook was standing alone on a 



572 SELF-MADE MEN. 

rock near the shore. Seeing, however, that it was now clearly a 
matter of escape, he hurried toward the pinnace, holding his left 
arm round the back of his head to shield it from stones, and car- 
rying his musket in his right hand. A remarkably agile warrior, 
a relation of the king's, was seen to follow him, and, before his 
object could be frustrated, sprang forward upon the captain, and 
struck him a heavy blow on the back of his head, and then turned 
and fled. Cook staggered a few paces, dropped his musket, and 
fell on his hands and one knee. Before he could recover himself, 
another islander rushed forward, and with an iron dagger stabbed 
him in the neck. He sunk into the water, and was immediately 
set upon by a number of savages, who tried to keep him down, 
but he succeeded in getting his head up. The pinnace was within 
half a dozen yards of him, and he cast an imploring look as if for 
assistance. The islanders forced him down again in a deeper 
place, but his great muscular strength enabled him to recover 
himself and cling to the rock. He was not there for more than 
a moment, when a brutal savage dealt him a heavy blow with a 
club, and he fell down lifeless. The Indians then hauled his 
corpse upon the rock, and ferociously stabbed it all over, handing 
the dagger from one to another, in order that all might participate 
in the sweet revenge. The body was left some time upon the rock, 
and the islanders gave way, as though afraid of the act they had 
committed ; but there was no attempt to recover it by the ship's 
crew, and it was subsequently cut up, together with the bodies 
of the marines, and the parts distributed among the chiefs. The 
mutilated fragments were afterward restored, and committed to 
the deep, with all the honors due to the rank of the deceased. 
Thus ingloriously perished one of England's greatest navigators, 
" whose services to science have never been surpassed by any man 
belonging to his profession." It may almost be said, says Mr. 
Robert Chambers, that he fell a victim to his humanity ; for if, in- 
stead of retreating before his barbarous pursuers with a view to 
spare their lives, he had turned revengefully upon them, his fate 
might have been very different. 

The command of the Resolution devolved on Captain Clerke, 
and Mr. Gore acted as commander of the Discovery. After mak- 
ing some further explorations among the Sandwich Islands, the 
vessels visited Kamtschatka and Behring's Straits. There it was 
found impossible to accomplish the objects of the expedition, and 



CAPTAIN JAMES COOK. 573 

it returned southward. Another misfortune befell the voyagers. 
On the 22d of August, 1779, Captain Clerke died of consump- 
tion. The ships visited Kamtschatka once more, and then re- 
turned by way of China, arriving in England on the 4th of Octo- 
ber, 1780, after an absence of four years, two months, and twen- 
ty-two days. 

When it became known in England that Captain Cook had 
perished, all classes of people expressed their sympathy and deep 
sorrow. The king granted a pension of £200 per annum to his 
widow, and £25 per annum to each of her children ; the Royal 
Society had a gold medal struck in commemoration of his serv- 
ices, and at home and abroad honors were scattered on his mem- 
ory. That Cook was justly entitled to these testimonials is be- 
yond a doubt, not only for the good he did his country, but for 
his own individual merit. It would be difficult to find a more 
brilliant instance of purely self-made greatness. Starting in life 
under circumstances of the most depressing nature, he succeeded 
solely by the force of industry in acquiring accomplishments 
which gave him the foremost place among the scientific men of 
his age. From the obscure condition of a foremast man on a col- 
lier he rose to be the greatest discoverer of modern times. A re- 
capitulation of what he accomplished may appropriately close 
this sketch. He discovered New Caledonia and Norfolk Island, 
New Georgia, and the Sandwich and many smaller islands in the 
Pacific ; surveyed the Society Islands, the Friendly Islands, and 
the New Hebrides ; determined the insularity of New Zealand ; 
circumnavigated the globe in a high southern latitude, so as to 
decide that no continent existed north of a certain parallel ; ex- 
plored the then unknown eastern coasts of New Holland for two 
thousand miles ; determined the proximity of Asia to America, 
which the discoverer of Behring's Straits did not perceive ; and, 
wherever he went, brought strange people into communication 
with the civilized world, through the wide gates of commerce and 
mutual interest. 

The rock where Captain Cook fell is an object of curiosity in 
Hawaii to the present day. The natives point it out with sorrow, 
and show the stump of a cocoanut-tree, where they say he ex- 
pired. The upper part of this tree has been carried to England, 
and is preserved in the museum of Greenwich Hospital. On the 



574 SELF-MADE MEN. 

remaining stump, which has been carefully capped with copper, 
is the following inscription : 

Near this spot 

fell 

CAPTAIN JAMES COOK, R. N., 

the 

renowned circumnavigator 

who 

discovered these islands, 

A.D. 1778. 




GEOKGE STEPHENSON. 

The most remarkable social results of the nineteenth century 
in America, in Europe, and in other parts of the world less open 
to the ever-operating influences of civilization, have been obtain- 
ed by the introduction of steam, and especially of its young, rap- 
id, and vigorous creation, the locomotive engine. In a brief space 
of time, so brief that it seems like a dream, vast continents and 
strange peoples have been banded together into one social union, 
depending on each other for the necessaries of life, and sharing 
with fraternal pleasure its courtesies and hospitable cheer. Local 
animosities and petty jealousies have disappeared like the ugly 
hobgoblin of old story, and in their place stalwart manhood con- 
fronts the time with open brow and genial smile. Truth travels 
from land to land with the speed of lightning, and the most re- 
mote corners of the habitable globe are no longer strangers to its 
beneficence. It has ceased to dwell at the bottom of a well, cold 
and passive, as of old. In our days it leads a pretty fast life, 
hurrying from place to place at a speed of thirty or forty miles an 
hour, and never resting. 



576 SELF-MADE MEN. 

Great efforts were required to accomplish this desirable result, 
and men and nations have strained themselves to bring it to a 
happy issue. The capital which has been created and expended 
in the formation of railroads is of marvelous magnitude. Within 
a little period of thirty years more money has been spent in this 
single undertaking than had been used in all the commercial spec- 
ulations of a century. In Great Britain alone (1855) not less 
than fourteen hundred million dollars have been sunk in the con- 
struction of 8297 miles of road. In America a smaller sum has 
sufficed for the construction of much more extensive works — not 
less than 26,000 miles of railroad being now in active opera- 
tion. Not only do we possess the longest railroads in the world, 
but the cheapest. Practically, too, we have given them a new use 
Instead of merely facilitating travel between existing communi- 
ties, as in Europe, they are to us the best of pioneers. Their 
sturdy limbs tread the way through the surly forest and the slum- 
bering valleys. Thousands follow in the path trodden with such 
vigor, and a prosperous commonwealth ensues, adding vitality and 
new wealth to our exuberant national being. 

The founder, and, to a great extent, the inventor of the present 
system of locomotion, was George Stephenson, a very humble per- 
son for one half of his life, but for the rest recognized as a bene- 
factor of his age, and the coequal of Watt, Fulton, Arkwright, 
and Brindley. Mr. Stephenson was born on the 9th of June, 
1781, in a tenement house occupied by colliers, and located in the 
little village of Wylam, Durham, England. He was the second 
of a family of six children, all of whom were dependent on the ex- 
ertions of the father, Robert Stephenson, familiarly called " Old 
Bob," a hard-working and thrifty man, who was fireman to a shaft 
engine at a salary of twelve shillings a week. 

The collier folk of the north of England are pre-eminently a 
migrating race. They have to follow the coal, and only wait un- 
til if is all " won" before they shift their quarters to some new 
pit. The Stephen sons removed to Dewley Burn before George 
had reached his eighth year, and it was in this cold and cheerless 
place that the boy obtained his first employment. He was too 
young to find work in the colliery, but too big to remain idle. A 
widow woman, who had some cows and some turnips that needed 
attention, made him an offer, which he at once accepted. He be- 
came a kind of smoky shepherd at the magnificent salary of two- 
pence per day. 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 577 

Brought up among steam-engines, it was natural that he should 
regard them with extreme admiration, and that he should look 
forward to the day when, like his father, he would enjoy the ex- 
treme happiness of making the fire blaze beneath their hissing 
boilers. This was his ambition, and it was bold, considering the 
depressing circumstances by which he was surrounded. For the 
present he fed his hope with the childlike amusement of making 
mud engines, fitted up with steam-pipes from hemlock stems, and 
he built little wheels for obtaining imaginary power from the 
neighboring streams. These things clearly indicated the bent of 
his mind. He never for a moment, even in his play, lost sight of 
his determination to become an engine-man. 

It was some years before he could take the first step in this 
direction. At length, however, his father undertook to engage 
him as assistant fireman at the Denley pit. This was a most 
encouraging promotion, and gave him great satisfaction. But he 
was still a very little fellow for the employment, and was dread- 
fully afraid that he would be considered too young by the owner. 
Whenever this magnate made his rounds, therefore, George clear- 
ed out of the way, and remained out of sight until his back was 
turned. For assisting his father he received a shilling a day ; but, 
magnificent as was this remuneration, it was not the great charm 
of his engagement. This lay in the fact that the first step toward 
the point of his ambition was accomplished. If a man of modest 
abilities and ordinary perseverance sets his mind on accomplishing 
a scheme of life, it is generally his own fault if he does not suc- 
ceed. Stephenson was aware of this fact, and became, in conse- 
quence, habitually painstaking and steady. He neglected no op- 
portunity of making himself thoroughly familiar with the duties 
of the engine-room. He studied the machinery night and day, 
until he knew the use of every part. A kind of personal intimacy 
sprang up between him and the engine, which, in the end, was 
certainly mutually advantageous. At the age of fifteen he became 
fireman, and shortly after was appointed engine-man to a colliery. 
" I am now a made man for life," he cried, triumphantly. 

George Stephenson quickly gained the reputation of being a 
good mechanic, and a workman of uncommon penetration and 
forethought. He was now in his eighteenth year, very steady 
and reliable, and possessed of excellent practical information con- 
cerning machinery, but in other respects completely uneducated. 

B B 



578 



SELF-MADE MEN. 









He had never attended a school, and was unable to read and write. 
His time was laboriously occupied with the duties of his calling 
for at least twelve hours of the day ; after that, he was still to be 
found in the engine-room, taking to pieces and cleaning his pet 
engine. At other times he took recreation in manly sports, and 
improved his native strength. He was remarkably active and 
dexterous, and could bid defiance to all his associates in feats of 
strength. At one time he could raise sixty stone's weight from 
the ground. 

He began to feel that the want of an education was a serious 
bar to his future progress, and determined, with that decision of 
character for which he was remarkable, to remedy the deficiency 
as far as in him lay the power. Big as he was, he went to the 
village school, and commenced his ABC like a little child. He 
made good progress, and before he had reached his nineteenth 
birth-day he enjoyed the happiness of signing his own name in a 
bold, legible hand. Subsequently he studied arithmetic, mathe- 
matics, practical and experimental philosophy, mechanics, and 
similar subjects, with marked success. He had a fine memory, 
and an understanding easily impressed. Moreover, he was simple 
and modest, and never ashamed of acknowledging his ignorance. 

When he was twenty years of age he became brakesman at the 
Black Callerton Colliery, and received the best wages paid to men 
of his class. Being of a thrifty turn, and in love with a pretty 
village lass, he sought to increase his earnings by extra work. 
As this could not be obtained at the colliery, he contrived to ob- 
tain a knowledge of shoemaking, and patched up the boots and 
shoes of his fellow- workmen, to say nothing of the slippers of his 
sweetheart, which he repaired in the most skillful manner. He 
became quite expert in this business, and from its exercise man- 
aged to save enough money to furnish a home for the future 
bride. 

He was much too steady for some of the men at the colliery, 
and one bully, who felt personally insulted by any thing which 
bore the semblance of respectability, insulted Stephenson, and in- 
vited him to a combat. To the surprise of every one, he accepted 
the challenge. The bully immediately abandoned his work and 
went into training. Stephenson said nothing, but, on the day 
of battle, coolly walked down from his work, pulled off his coat, 
rolled up his sleeves, and went to work at the head of his oppo- 






GEORGE STEPHENSON. 579 

nent as if it were a part of his contract with the owners of the 
colliery. The combatants pummeled each other for some time, 
but the bully was powerless beneath the plucky might of Ste- 
phenson. He was glad to cry for quarter, and sneak away, a bet- 
ter and a blacker man. It was Stephenson's first and last battle. 

In 1802, Stephenson removed to Willington Quay, near New- 
castle-on-Tyne, and was married to the young and estimable wom- 
an whose shoes he had soled on a former occasion. Here he pur- 
sued his old steady course, working, studying, and mending shoes. 
Owing to an accidental insight into the mysteries of clock-mak- 
ing, he was able to add a new profession to his other employments. 
He became a famous clock doctor. All the wheezy old time- 
pieces of the place were sent to him, and some of his cures were 
said to be remarkable. 

After remaining three years in Willington he removed to Kil- 
lingworth (1804), one of the scenes of his subsequent triumphs. 
Here he was overtaken by a severe calamity, the death of his 
wife. The depression which this event produced induced him to 
accept an offer to work an engine in Scotland, whither he pro- 
ceeded. After nearly a year's absence he returned to Killing- 
worth, where his only child, a little boy (Robert Stephenson, the 
eminent engineer), was being nursed. He had saved upward of 
twenty-eight pounds in Scotland, and the arrival of this little fund 
was most timely. He rescued his father from pecuniary difficul- 
ties brought about by a very dreadful accident, and with the bal- 
ance procured a substitute for the militia, in which service he had 
been drawn. The mining districts were greatly depressed at this 
time, and it was with difficulty that even an industrious man like 
Stephenson could procure a sufficiency of work. He allowed no 
means to go untried. He did all that was to be done at the col- 
liery ; repaired and made boots and shoes ; cleaned and doctored 
clocks and watches, and even, it is said, cut out clothes for the 
pitmen's wives. He was stimulated to unusual exertion by the 
determination to provide an education for his son, who was now 
advancing to an age when he might receive the rudiments. 

A man like Stephenson, who took a pride in understanding the 
practical construction of the machines under his control, had, of 
course, many opportunities for displaying his ingenuity ; but the 
first really important case in which his skill was severely put to 
the test was in remedying the defects of an engine which had de- 









580 SELF-MADE MEN. 

tied all the talent of the best engineers of the neighborhood, and 
of the maker himself. Stephenson found out the difficulty and. 
remedied it. For this he received ten pounds' remuneration, and, 
what was more important to him, the appointment of engine-man 
to the colliery. In addition, he acquired the reputation of being 
the best engine doctor in the northern country, which unques- 
tionably he was. 

Stephenson's promotion (in 1812) to the rank of engine-wright 
was a source of great rejoicing to him. He was now, in a meas- 
ure, relieved from the daily routine of manual labor, although, in 
reality, his duties were much heavier than before. All the en- 
gines and machinery of the colliery were placed under his control, 
and he was allowed to modify and alter them as he thought best. 
He introduced many improvements, both in the machinery of the 
shaft, and in the iron tram-ways, or railroads leading from it. 
He had devoted a good deal of attention to the subject of rail- 
roads, and was perfectly familiar with all the experiments that 
had been made to introduce the locomotive. Their huge and cum- 
brous wheels, cogs, screws, pistons, and levers had been tried in 
the haulage of wagons ; but the speed accomplished was so tedi- 
ous, and the wear and tear so disastrous, that they were in most 
cases abandoned. Stephenson, however, was not slow to perceive 
the immense advantages which would result from the use of a 
power so enormous as that promised by the locomotive, provided 
it could be brought into proper subjection, and already he began 
to perceive how this might be accomplished. 

Setting himself down to the systematic study of the subject, 
he soon ascertained the cause of failure in preceding models, and 
declared that he could make an engine much better than any that 
existed. To accomplish this Mr. Stephenson now applied himself. 
He was warmly encouraged by the owners of the colliery in which 
he worked, and in which his ingenuity had been so often tested. 
Lord Ravensworth (one of the proprietors) advanced the necessary 
funds for the work, and, in remembrance of this, Stephenson called 
his first engine "My Lord." 

The engine, after much labor and anxiety, and frequent alter- 
ations of parts, was at length completed, having been about ten 
months in hand. It was first placed upon the Killingworth Rail- 
road on the 25th of July, 1814, and its powers were tried on the 
same day. On an ascending gradient of 1 in 450, the engine sue- 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 581 

ceeded in drawing after it eight loaded carriages of thirty tons 
weight at about four miles an hour ; and for some time after it 
continued regularly at work. Stephenson justified his boast, and 
really had produced the most successful working engine yet con- 
structed. Still, it was very defective, and did not give promise 
of economical advantages over horse-power. The speed attained 
was little better than a horse's walk, and it was found difficult to 
increase it, owing to the slow combustion of fuel. He now direct- 
ed all his energies to this subject, and in a short time added the 
steam-blast to his engine. The experiment was no sooner made 
than the locomotive's power became doubled. He introduced 
many other improvements, and in 1815 built his second locomo- 
tive, combining all the results of his discoveries and improvements. 
For this he obtained a patent. Its advantages over any other 
machine are thus described : simple and direct communication 
between the cylinder and the wheels rolling upon the rails ; joint 
adhesion of all the wheels, attained by the use of horizontal con- 
necting rods ; and, finally, a beautiful method of exciting the com- 
bustion of the fuel by employing the waste steam, which had for- 
merly been allowed uselessly to escape into the air. Although 
many improvements in detail were afterward introduced in the 
locomotive by Mr. Stephenson himself, as well as by his equally 
distinguished son, it is perhaps not too much to say that this en- 
gine, as a mechanical contrivance, contained the germ of all that 
has since been effected. It may, in fact, be regarded as the type 
of the present locomotive engine. 

Many years elapsed before this important discovery (for so it 
may be termed) excited even the curiosity of the scientific. Ste- 
phenson was but a humble, self-taught mechanic at a colliery, 
and no one thought it worth while to pay any attention to him. 
Professional engineers wrapped themselves in the dignity of their 
calling, and refused to have any thing to say to an upstart who 
pretended to do more than they could. 

In the mean time, Stephenson directed his attention to another 
subject. The loss of life from the explosion of fire-damp in the 
mines was frequent and disastrous. To prevent this, he proposed 
to invent a safety-lamp which would not ignite the dangerous gas, 
and yet be sufficient for the purposes of the miners. He did not 
know that Sir Humphrey Davy, the most eminent chemist in the 
country, was engaged on a similar subject, and with opportunities 



582 SELF-MADE MEN, 

of investigating it that were utterly denied to the poor engine- 
wright. Trusting to his practical knowledge of what was want- 
ed, he went to work, and, at the risk of his own life, made experi- 
ments which resulted in a safety-lamp used to the present day, 
and entirely effective. Although wrought out on purely mechan- 
ical principles by the inventor, it is philosophically the same as 
Davy's. Its similarity, indeed, led to a controversy, which was 
conducted with the usual ferocity of such discussions. Stephen- 
son, however, was presented with a testimonial and a purse of one 
thousand guineas for the public benefit he had conferred on the 
mining community. This sum he subsequently invested in estab- 
lishing his extensive works at Newcastle. 

Railroads, up to this period, were confined exclusively to the 
mining districts, and there their use was restricted to the haulage 
of coals. The application of steam for the conveyance of passen- 
gers was not even dreamed of. Professed engineers endeavored 
to find out how a steam carriage could be constructed to run on 
the ordinary turnpike roads, and many ingenious contrivances 
were made and patented ; but they all proved to be of no practi- 
cal utility. From the first, Stephenson declared that the thing 
was impossible, and maintained that the only correct plan was 
to construct iron tramways as nearly flat as possible, and to use 
locomotives. He declared his conviction, moreover, that in a 
few years communication would be maintained entirely by these 
means. 

His remarks were listened to with the usual indifference ; men 
went on wasting money on steam carriages for the common roads ; 
and Stephenson bided his time, in full confidence that it would yet 
come. For ten years he was, perhaps, the only man in the king- 
dom who took any sustained interest in locomotives. 

Stephenson's reputation was purely local, but it was of service 
to him. A number of gentlemen, mostly Quakers, contemplated 
building a railroad, to be worked with horse -power, from the 
town of Darlington to the town of Stockton, on the River Tees. 
Foremost among these was a very enterprising and wealthy gen- 
tleman named Pease. To this gentleman Stephenson presented 
himself. The plans being still in a very unsettled state, Mr. 
Pease was glad to have the opportunity of gathering from him 
the results of his experience, but was a little startled when his 
visitor declared his preference for the locomotive over horse-pow- 



GEORGE STEPHENSON, 583 

er. "Come over to Killingworth," he said, "and see what my 
'Blucher' can do. Seeing is believing, sir." Mr. Pease went, 
and was not only astonished, but convinced that Stephenson was 
right. Still, it was a bold idea, and his coadjutors were not pre- 
pared for it ; so the Stockton and Darlington Railroad was con- 
structed for the conveyance of goods by means of horses, inclined 
planes, and stationary engines. A clause, however, was inserted 
in the act, enabling the projectors, if they felt disposed, to use lo- 
comotives, and Mr. Pease promised that Stephenson (who had 
been appointed engineer of the road at a salary of £300 per an- 
num) should have a fair trial. 

The Stockton and Darlington Railroad (the first complete rail- 
road in the world) was opened for traffic on the 27th of Septem- 
ber, 1825, and one of Stephenson's engines was tried. It was at- 
tached to a train consisting of six wagons loaded with coals and 
flour ; after these was the passenger coach, filled with the direct- 
ors and their friends, and then twenty-one wagons, fitted up with 
temporary seats for passengers ; and lastly came six wagon-loads 
of coals, making, in all, a train of thirty-eight vehicles. " The 
signal being given," says a local chronicler, " the engine started 
off with this immense train of carriages, and such was its veloci- 
ty that, in some parts, the speed was frequently twelve miles an 
hour ; and at that time the number of passengers was counted to 
be 450, which, together with the coals, merchandise, and carriages, 
would amount to nearly 90 tons." A large passenger traffic im- 
mediately sprang up, and was, of course, a source of unexpected 
profit. Three of Stephenson's engines were from the first employ- 
ed, but, in spite of their acknowledged superiority, it was some 
years before locomotives were used uniformly in preference to oth- 
er power. Mr. Pease's confidence in Stephenson was unbounded, 
and he became a partner in the locomotive works which subse- 
quently were started in Newcastle. 

With the successful issue of the Stockton and Darlington proj- 
ect the practicability of railroads became an established fact, and 
other schemes were immediately set on foot. The most import- 
ant of these was the Liverpool and Manchester Railroad. The 
bill for constructing this line was opposed with great violence by 
the canal proprietors, whose monopoly it destroyed, and for a time 
their opposition was successful ; but finally the bill was granted. 
Mr. Stephenson was engaged as the engineer of the line, and had 



584 SELF-MADE MEN. 

to undergo the ordeal of an examination before a committee of 
the House of Commons. Referring to this matter many years 
after, he says, "The directors of the undertaking thought ten miles 
an hour would be a maximum speed for the locomotive engine, 
and I pledged myself to attain that speed. I said I had no doubt 
that the locomotive might be made to go much faster, but we had 
better be moderate at the beginning. The directors said I was 
quite right ; for if, when they went to Parliament, I talked of go- 
ing at a greater rate than ten miles an hour, I should put a cross 
on the concern ! It was not an easy task for me to keep the en- 
gine down to ten miles an hour, but it must be done, and I did 
my best. I had to place myself in the most unpleasant of all po- 
sitions, the witness-box of a parliamentary committee. I was not 
long in it, I assure you, before I began to wish for a hole to creep 
out at. I could not find words to satisfy the. committee or my- 
self, or even to make them understand my meaning. Some said, 
i He's a foreigner.' ' No,' others replied, ' he's mad.' But I put 
up with every rebuff, and went on with my plans, determined not 
to be put down." 

It was by no means certain that locomotives would be used, al- 
though so much trouble had been gone through to obtain parlia- 
mentary permission for the purpose. The majority of the stock- 
holders were still in favor of stationary engines and horse-power, 
and were disposed to look on locomotives as costly experiments. 
Stephenson exerted himself to remove this erroneous impression, 
and succeeded in getting permission to use an engine in the con^ 
struction of the works, which were of a gigantic kind, and entire- 
ly beyond any thing which had ever been attempted in England. 
This locomotive was found to be of great service in drawing the 
wagons full of marl from the two great cuttings. The directors 
became a little softened, and listened to Stephenson's protesta- 
tions with greater respect. At length they determined to offer a 
prize of £500 for the best locomotive engine which, on a certain 
day, should be produced, and perform certain conditions in the 
most satisfactory manner. The conditions were these : 

1. The engine must effectually consume its own smoke. 

2. The engine, if of six tons' weight, must be able to draw after 
it, day by day, twenty tons' weight (including the tender and wa- 
ter-tank), at ten miles an hour, with a pressure of steam on the 
boiler not exceeding fifty pounds to the square inch. 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 585 

3. The boiler must have two safety-valves, neither of which 
must be fastened down, and one of them be completely out of the 
control of the engine-man. 

4. The engine and boiler must be supported on springs, and 
rest on six wheels, the height of the whole not exceeding fifteen 
feet to the top of the chimney. 

5. The engine, with water, must not weigh more than six tons, 
but an engine of less weight would be preferred, on its drawing a 
proportionate load behind it : if of only four and a half tons, then 
it might be put on only four wheels. The company to be at lib- 
erty to test the boiler, etc., by a pressure of one hundred and fifty 
pounds to the square inch. 

6. A mercurial gauge must be affixed to the machine, showing 
the steam pressure above forty-five pounds per square inch. 

7. The engine must be delivered complete and ready for trial 
at the Liverpool end of the railway not later than the 1st of Oc- 
tober, 1829. 

8. The price of the engine must not exceed £550. 

On the day appointed for the competition, the following engines 
were entered for the prize : 

1. Messrs. Braithwaite & Ericsson's "Novelty." 

2. Mr. Timothy Hackworth's " Sanspareil." 

3. Mr. Eobert Stephenson's "Rocket." 

4. Mr. BurstalPs "Perseverance." 

The ground on which the engines were to be tried was a level 
piece of railroad on the new line near Eainhill, about two miles 
in length. Each engine was to make twenty trips, or equal to a 
journey of seventy miles, in the course of the day, and the average 
rate of traveling was not to be under ten miles an hour. The trial 
was appointed to take place on the 6th of October, 1829 — a day 
which deserves to be historical, so great were its results. 

Mr. Stephenson's engine was the first to be in readiness, and it 
immediately entered upon the contest. The engine was taken to 
tfye extremity of the stage, the fire-box was filled with coke, the 
fire lighted, and the steam raised until it lifted the safety-valve, 
loaded to a pressure of fifty pounds to the square inch. This 
proceeding occupied fifty-seven minutes. The engine then start- 
ed on its journey, dragging after it about thirteen tons' weight in 
wagons, and made the first ten trips backward and forward along 
the two miles of road, running the thirty-five miles, including 

B n 2 



586 SELF-MADE MEN. 

stoppages, in an hour and forty-eight minutes. The second ten 
trips were in like manner performed in two hours and three min- 
utes. The maximum velocity attained by the " Rocket" during 
the trial trip was twenty-nine miles an hour, or about three times 
the speed that one of the judges of the competition declared to 
be the limit of possibility. The entire performance excited the 
greatest astonishment among the assembled spectators ; the di- 
rectors felt confident that their enterprise was now on the eve of 
success, and George Stephenson rejoiced to think that, in spite 
of all false prophets and fickle counselors, his locomotive system 
was safe. 

The other engines were tried, but were so much inferior to 
Stephenson's that the prize of £500 was unanimously awarded 
to him. The public were so well satisfied with the experiment 
that the shares of the company immediately went up ten per cent. 
When the line was opened in September, 1830, other engines made 
by Mr. Stephenson far eclipsed the performances of the " Rocket." 
The "Northumbrian" engine conveyed the wounded body of a gen- 
tleman who had met with an accident a distance of fifteen miles 
in twenty-five minutes, or at the rate of thirty-six miles an hour. 
This incredible speed burst upon the world with all the effect of 
a new and unlooked-for phenomenon. 

Stephenson's career was fairly commenced. From 1825 to 
1847 he was recognized as the first railroad engineer of his coun- 
try. Orders for locomotives came in from all parts of the world, 
and his workshops were crowded with busy artisans. Personally, 
his services were in great demand, and every company who ob- 
tained a bill tried to give it importance by getting Stephenson's 
name on it. But, with the exception of three or four principal 
lines entirely constructed by him, he did not lend himself to any 
new schemes. He had as much to attend to as he could under- 
take. He had accomplished the object of his life, and felt disposed 
to relax from his severe exertions. Before arriving at this con- 
clusion, he paid a visit to France, Belgium, and Spain, and was 
extensively honored in those countries. His visit to Spain was_ 
extremely hurried, and occasioned a sickness from which he never 
entirely recovered. His constitution, so strong and hardy, became 
sensitive to disease. He contracted an intermittent fever, and was 
carried off, after a few days' sickness, on the 12th of August, 1848, 
in the sixty-seventh year of his age. 



GEORGE STEPHENSON. 587 

Mr. Stephenson, in the latter years of his life, was greatly as- 
sisted by his son Eobert, and it is almost impossible to separate 
the works of one from the other. At the present day Mr. Rob- 
ert Stephenson is probably the most eminent engineer in the 
world. 

Mr. George Stephenson was a remarkable instance of the 
strength of purpose which is so often found in self-made men. 
He would never admit that he possessed more genius than others, 
but he was proud of his perseverance, and to this inestimable 
quality he attributed all his success in life. It is, indeed, the key- 
stone of all human greatness, and when supported by sobriety and 
conscientiousness, never fails in achieving distinction. In the 
present instance, we behold a man struggling with the direst pov- 
erty, yet fiercely grasping one grand idea, with the intention of 
making it his own, sooner or later. From this intention he nev- 
er swerved. By patient labor he made himself master of all the 
knowledge that was immediately essential to his purpose. He 
gradually conquered the mechanism of the steam-engine, so that, 
when opportunity offered, he was enabled to improve it, and to 
make it work when even its own maker was baffled. He prac- 
tically studied hydraulics in the same plodding way, when acting 
as plug-man ; and when all the local pump-doctors at Killing- 
worth were in despair, he stepped in and successfully applied the 
knowledge which he had so laboriously gained. The battle which 
he fought for the locomotive would have discouraged most other 
men, but it only served to bring into prominence his sterling qual- 
ities. "I have fought," he said, " for the locomotive single-hand- 
ed for nearly twenty years, having no engineer to help me until I 
had raised engineers under my own care." He persevered and 
he conquered. 

In his deportment Mr. Stephenson was simple, modest, and un- 
assuming, but always manly. "When a humble workman," says 
his biographer, " he had carefully preserved his self-respect. His 
companions looked up to him, and his example was worth even 
more, to many of them, than books or schools. His devoted love 
of knowledge made his poverty respectable, and adorned his hum- 
ble, calling. When he rose to a more elevated station, and asso- 
ciated with men of the highest position and influence in Britain, 
he took his place among them with perfect self-possession. They 
wondered at the quiet ease and simple dignity of his deportment, 






588 



SELF-MADE MEN. 



and men in the best ranks of life have said of him that ' he was 
one of nature's gentlemen.' " 

The remains of George Stephenson were interred in Trinity 
Church, Chesterfield, where a simple but expressive monument 
has been erected to his memory. 







THE END. 






